Consequence
by PteraWaters
Summary: When Willow trapped the Senior Partners in their home dimension, something else was trapped in ours. But how will our heroes fight this demon? And can Willow battle him without losing control? Spike/Angel shown, slight /Buffy.'season 9-ish', V/S archives
1. Sinking

_A/N: Welcome back my faithful readers, as well as everyone new! I hope you enjoy..._

_

* * *

Previously on The Vampire/Slayer Archives:_

_Angel, Spike, and Fred joined Buffy and her crew at Slayer Central in Scotland, joining their good fight. Spike's visions then led him, Angel, Fred, and Xander back to the States. Peddleford, New Hamshire, to be precise. There, Fred acted on her own to discover an incubus hiding in plain sight, siring his half-demon children on the unsuspecting female population of Peddleford. After a short fight with the whole gang, the demon was incapacitated and captured. To make sure the curse the incubus placed on him and Spike was indeed lifted, Angel brought the demon back to Slayer Central, locking him up in the dungeon along with the rest of the beasts. _

_Now, onto our story..._

_

* * *

_**Consequence**

Chapter 1 - Sinking

"That's right, Celeste," I praised one of my students, "using the natural log will allow you to solve for_ x_ in this equation."

The girl nodded, open mouthed, like she was still thinking about it and would be for the next five minutes, even though she'd gotten the answer right. Sometimes I had difficulties understanding how people didn't get this stuff right away, but then I remembered tutoring Xander through all of High School and I was reminded. Not all friendly-Scooby packages came with a brain for numbers. Or letters. Or common sense of any kind.

But, if any of these girls wanted something for their lives, besides dying young fighting legions of the hellish undead, they'd have to pass algebra. As I continued teaching the class, my third and final math class of the day, I wondered if things would ever slow down again. If any of these girls, any of these slayers, would get a chance to go to college, to have careers outside the good fight. I knew I chose to stay at the old Hellmouth in Sunnydale, I knew I gave up a career to help Buffy fight evil, and I knew that's why I had to finish college through online classes in my limited spare time. Here was hoping any of these girls had something other than their supernatural powers to fall back on, in case that World Peace we've been praying for all these years decided to show up. 'Hey, World Peace! How've you been? Where've you been?'

Not so much.

After class ended and while most of the students were filing from the room, chatting away about this and that, one of the girls approached me. "Hey, Willow?" she asked, her dark eyebrows knit up in confusion above her pretty brown eyes and those high cheekbones, and, 'Hey! Get a grip, Wills!'

"Yeah, Rita?" I replied. "What is it? Do you have a question about today's lecture?"

"No, I-"

"Yesterday's then? Were the homework problems too tough?"

"Well, yeah," she breathed with a smirk. "But I'm just ... Angel wanted me to ask you how many recruits you're aiming for next year. We're trying to work it into the budget..."

"'_We're_ trying'? I thought Angel was in charge of all this stuff?"

Rita smiled, shaking her head, "He hired me to help out."

"You're working with Angel?" I asked her, surprised. "When did this happen?"

Rita waved off the question, muttering, "Oh, just last week. Don't worry, you didn't miss a memo. Angel's just like that."

"I _know _what he's like. Big broody guy? Unexpectedly happy with Spike guy? Fangs if you get him mad guy? I know the one."

Rita chuckled before raising her eyebrows in expectation.

"Um," I said, trying to remember her question. "I'd like to bring in at least five or six more witches or warlocks. Especially if some of our currents are moving elsewhere as we set up more of these satellite offices. I don't know what I'm gonna do when Bethany leaves."

"Get over it?" Rita suggested with a sarcastic shrug and a laugh. "Thanks, Rosenberg. I'll see you later."

Ooh, boy. That one was pure slayer, through and through. Sometimes she reminded me of Buffy when we were younger, but then, a stream of the most creative curses would spew forth from Rita's mouth and she'd remind me more of Faith.

"'Just get over it,' she says," I mumbled to myself as I packed a stack of papers away in my desk drawers before locking them, both with a key and with a spell. It seemed like I had a lot of things to just 'get over' lately. Kennedy and I were through, for good this time, and I just had to get over it. But how do you get over something when you know it's all your fault? That if I hadn't spent so much time away from home, things between us would have been fine?

Kennedy didn't understand what a risk I was taking when I performed those spells for Angel and Spike. I had this sneaking suspicion that she loved being with the witch who had made all her friends into full-fledged superheroes, and she didn't want me admitting that I couldn't be that 'goddess' all the time. I couldn't be Super-Willow very often and expect not to go crazy from the magic.

She didn't understand the insane-drowning-clawing-blissful-choking of getting lost in it. She didn't understand that I needed help to get through the entire mess. She didn't understand that in the wake of all that magic, I almost tumbled along with it, losing Willow in a rushing tide of power. She didn't understand that the only beings that could help me anymore weren't technically in our dimension. She didn't realize I kept leaving so I could stay me, so I could stay with her.

And still, it's all my fault.

Tummy all rumbly, I made my way to the dining hall just in time for supper. Since it was still early, there weren't too many people there, and I sat my tray down at Buffy's usual table, hoping she would show up soon. She didn't, but Spike did.

"Oi, Red," he greeted me, flopping down on the bench across the table from me, a big mug of piping-hot blood in his hand, "how's the witching business these days?"

"Difficult," I blurted out. At Spike's one raised eyebrow, I felt my eyes go wide as I tried to take it back, "I mean, fine. It's fine, really. I'm fine. Fine. Fine. Fine."

"So …" he nodded, an amused smirk on his face as he took a sip of blood, "you're _fine_, then?"

"Yep," I nodded, watching as a chunk of potato slipped from my fork and plopped back down onto my plate. At least we had good food here. Diane saw to that, and I was grateful to her for it, because I didn't know anything about feeding hundreds of people besides having memorized the number for the nearest pizza place. Which wasn't all that great in this remote area of Scotland. "Right as rain. Right as right rain. None of this left-rain business, because that would just be silly."

"Mmm," Spike agreed, "silly, indeed." Peering at me again over his mug of blood and then licking the red stuff from his lips as he lowered it, Spike told me, "You know, pet, one might observe that you Scoobies tend to babble."

"It's a living," I replied with a shrug, chewing through another bite of food and trying to avoid eye-contact with the vampire.

"And that said babble only really occurs when you're feeling arse over teakettle, yeah?"

"Arse over…" I repeated, scrunching up my eyebrows in confusion.

"Put out? Discombobulated? Upset?"

"Upset?" I cried, shaking my head. "No one's upset here, Spike. Unless it's you? How are you? Because that's really a better topic than arses and teakettles and … How are you, Spike?"

"Quite alright, thanks ever so," he replied, the words tumbling from his mouth in that lazy British accent of his, so unlike Giles'. Speaking of Giles, I'd heard he was making his way back here soon, a fact for which I was glad. The magic always felt a little easier to control when he was around.

"Glad to hear it," I told Spike. "Just having a good day, or did something else happen?"

"Oh, mighty good day," he said, grinning. "Got laid this morning," Spike shot me a lecherous grin and I pretended to be disgusted for him, "had me a good tussle with one of the new slayers, haven't had a vision in almost four days. And, might get laid again tonight if the old man is up for it."

"All good reasons to be 'alright'," I agreed, taking another bite of food, not really tasting it as I chewed, only noticing that it was nice and warm. I wanted to feel happy for Spike, I really did. After all that he'd done to help us, he deserved a little happiness. But my mind was still stuck on Kennedy. Sure, it had been almost three months since we broke up, but I kept having to hear about how much better she was doing now. About how she and some other slayer were seeing each other out there in South America.

Spike gave me an assessing glance that said he knew I wasn't 'fine' in the slightest, but mercifully, he kept his mouth shut, giving me a moment of silence before Buffy finally joined us.

"Hi guys," she greeted us cheerily, sitting down next to Spike with her tray. God, was everyone happy today but me? Oh, man, I was turning into one of those 'emo' people, wasn't I? 'Life is so hard'. 'No one loves me'. 'Everyone else is happy'. I had to find a way to get out of this funk, because seriously? Arse-over-teakettle Willow is no good for anyone if they like the world undestroyed. And I think they do.

"Slayer," Spike nodded, one arm snaking possessively around Buffy's waist, pulling her closer to him in a way that made Buffy smile her goofy 'I'm in love' smile. It would have been completely inappropriate for me to make barfing noises, wouldn't it? Where's Xander when you need him?

All summer and this far into fall, Buffy had been getting cozy with both her vampire exes, and I wasn't quite sure what to think about that. I mean, I wanted to see her happy, but I didn't want her getting between the two of them, you know? I'd never seen Spike this 'quite alright' and I'm sure being with Angel had everything to do with it. Then you add Buffy into the mix? Who knows what comes out?

"Hey, Wills?" Buffy asked me, her voice concerned. "Are you okay?"

Suddenly, something heavy settled in my gut, squirming and twisting away, and I don't think it was the yummy pot roast I'd eaten. It felt like there was something wrong with my magic, like something else was trying to pull it away. Crap! Was Nelson trying another one of the spells he found in that book? Damn it, I had to go find out.

When I stood up, Buffy did too, waving her hand in front of my face, "Willow? What's up?"

"Oh," I blinked, smiling at her. "Just one of my students getting out of hand. I'll take care of it."

"You're sure?" she asked, poised to follow me into trouble if I gave the word. God, that's one of the things I loved about Buffy. She was always so brave.

But, the bravery was wasted, because I didn't need her at the moment. "I'm sure. Eat your dinner, Buff. I'll let you know later how it turns out."

"Okaaay," she drawled with a slow smile as she sat back down next to Spike. "I'll talk to you in a bit."

"In a bit," I agreed, waving goodbye to Spike and rushing from the dining hall as the uneasiness in my stomach grew.

* * *

When I joined Angel in our TV room, he was reading something that looked old and poncey. Though I'd been planning on watching something on the telly before navigating him toward the bedroom, he looked so peaceful that I decided not to disturb him too much. So instead, I went to the bookshelf in the main room and grabbed a book of poems that Willow had leant me, shucking off my coat and boots as I joined Angel, sitting on the floor between his legs, my back against his chair.

"Mmm, hi, hon," he greeted me, scratching his fingers at the nape of my neck.

Murmuring a greeting in return, "'lo, luv," I arched practically my whole body into his touch, glad just to be this close to him. We'd been living together six months now, save those three weeks we had to stay apart, and I still got a thrill whenever we were together again like this, almost happy. Today Angel's tone suggested nothing was wrong, but I could feel the emotion radiating from him that said otherwise. So, turning to face him, I asked, "How was your day, then?"

"Awful," he replied, eyes all sad as he closed his book and set it down on the table beside him.

Abandoning my book and nodding, I stood, carefully straddling him in the chair and folding Angel in my arms. "What happened? Are you still upset about what Fred did in New Hampshire?"

"No," he assured me right away, shaking his head and running his hands up and down my back. "I just got some news from LA today."

"News?" I asked, suddenly understanding why today was a bad day, why the air around him felt so stormy.

"Yeah," he nodded, pressing his big forehead to my shoulder. "This woman I knew there, a detective..." he sighed, brooding fully established at this point. "I found out today that she was killed during the battle."

"Oh, bugger," I sighed, running my hands all over Angel in the most comforting ways I could think of.

"I should have told her to leave," he insisted. "I hadn't talked to Kate in years. Not since she left the police force. I didn't even think... God! I thought to get Nina out of town, but not her?"

Jealousy welling up under my heart, I asked him, "You sent the werewolf lass out of LA before the big bruhaha?"

"Don't be mad, Spike," he ordered, his voice compassionate, asking for forgiveness. "I just didn't want her getting killed because of something I brought down on the city. I told her all about you," Angel assured me, squeezing me in a hug.

"What did you tell her?" I asked, curious and playing with him a little now that I had him on the guilt hook.

"I told her," Angel mumbled, kissing me, "that I'd found who I was meant to be with. That I'd found you."

Nodding and kissing him again, letting my lips linger on his lightly before I pulled back, I asked, "Is there somethin' I can do to make you feel better, luv?"

Smirking, Angel replied, "You know all the ways to make me feel better, _cor_."

Sitting back a bit so I could focus on his face, I told him, "You've been saying that one a lot. I doubt you're calling me God. You know, '_Cor blimey_' and all that. Is it Irish?"

"No, it's Latin," Angel replied, his smirk fading into a soft smile. "It means 'heart'."

"Right," I nodded, remembering my long-off school days. "I knew that at some point in my life. Never heard it as a term of endearment before, is all."

"My grandda was a deacon," he whispered, his fingers tracing the edges of my face. "Loved Latin. He loved speaking it and reading it and writing it. And he used to call my grandmum _'cor'_ more than anything else. I guess I just thought it fit."

"Aye," I agreed, rubbing my face into his palm. "It does. Much better than 'blondie bear' or 'snookums'."

Angel laughed, a mischievous expression on his face that made me clamp a hand down over his mouth before he could say anything. "If you ever call me either of those," I warned him, sticking a finger from my free hand right between his eyes, "I will punch you in the mouth so hard …"

Nodding so I would let him go, Angel licked his lips quickly and asked, "Why do you always call me 'Peaches'?"

"Well," I told him, my hands roaming his body again now that the threat of hearing those god-awful nicknames was over, "your arse has always reminded me of two ripe peaches. Yeah?"

"Been hung up on my ass all these years, huh?"

"Definitely," I smirked, nipping at his bottom lip, pressing kisses that became more and more urgent to his mouth. "Mmm, you always taste exactly right, Ange."

"Are you thirsty?" he asked me, tilting his neck to give me better access.

"Not after this morning, luv," I told him, shivering a little at the memory of waking up together that day. "You?"

"No," he answered, smiling again as he pulled me down for another tender kiss. After a few moments of increasingly urgent kisses, he asked in a whisper, "Would you take me? Would you make love to me, Will?"

"Anything you want, Angel." I replied, the need in his voice and rolling from his skin clutching at my chest. "Always."

"Sometimes," he whispered, letting me unbutton and take his shirt, "when I'm with you, 'Angel' doesn't seem to fit."

"Well it is an ironic name, given what you are."

"But that's what I'm saying," he insisted. "When I'm with you, like this, I feel almost human, and it doesn't sound right anymore."

"So, what would you call yourself?" I asked him, tilting my head and watching his face.

"I used to be called Liam," he replied.

"Liam," I tasted the name. "But if you call me Will all the time, and I call you Liam..." Angel laughed, hugging me closer as I continued, "You're really trying to turn us into the same person, aren't you?"

"I'm not," he insisted. "It was a common name when I was alive."

"Mine still is," I told him. "'Tis part of the reason I changed it."

"You always wanted to be unique," he murmured, kissing my neck and biting lightly, just enough to tease.

"Haven't gotten the chance yet," I replied. "You always bloody well get there first."

Angel blew air from his nose shakily, almost a laugh, which tickled my skin as it passed. "You're the only man I've ever loved," he told me, running the tips of his fingers through my hair. "That's unique."

"Oh, thank you," I said, a snide tone in my voice. "I feel ever so much better now."

"You'll feel better after fucking me," he whispered, rolling his hips under me.

Hissing in pleasure, I complained, "And people think I'm the one, always starts these things."

"People?" he asked softly, scratching at one of the white scars under my collarbone, trying to open the skin back up.

"Buffy," I replied, trying not to wriggle too much under the pain of his nail. "She thinks all those put-upon sighs you give me aren't just an act."

"They aren't?" he asked me, a twinkle in one dark eye.

"Oh, no, Liam," I smirked, sucking on his bottom lip for a moment. "You forget – I know how you think, and most of the time I can tell what you're feeling."

"Damn you," he said with a little chuckle, breathing in as he kissed me again, taking in my scent. Then, as his lips parted from mine, an alarm blared through the castle, urging us to action. "Christ!" Angel swore, glaring past me out into our main room. Then, catching my eyes before letting me go, he asked, "Can you tell what I'm feeling now?"

"Frustration, primarily," I replied, standing and giving him a hand up onto his feet. "Let's go kill whatever's interrupted us, yeah, pet?"

Growling as he found his shirt, his shoes and a weapon, Angel muttered, "Yeah. Something's gonna bleed for this."

Angel and I headed from our suite towards the first floor, weapons in hand. Though alarms blared all around us, no one we passed seemed to know what to do. Then, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket, so I pulled it out and checked it as we ran.

"South gate," I told Angel, reading the message Xander had sent. "Demon attack."

As we left the building through the main front doors, magic crackled through the just-dark sky in all sorts of colors, and it looked like some of it was ours, but a whole soddin' mess of it wasn't. "Bollocks," I whispered, just before Angel and I caught up to Buffy, who was speaking into the com unit attached to her ear.

The crashing sounds of battle from up ahead sang to me, and I could feel Angel itching for a fight beside me as well. And then Buffy waved us forward and we followed her as she moved up, toward the battle.

"Spike," Buffy said, turning to me quickly amidst the chaos, "we've got a major attack on our hands, and I'm calling in most of the students. I need you to give orders here at the front gate." Without preamble, she ripped the gizmo from her ear and handed it to me, turning to my partner. "Angel," she ordered him, "you're with me."

The ponce nodded, kissing me quickly before we parted and giving me a look that said I'd better survive this. I nodded and returned the look, setting the earpiece in place and turning toward the battle.

"Oi," I said out loud, rushing forward, "anyone there?"

"Spike," Xander's voice sounded tinny over the connection. "We need to hold the line at the gate while the magicians figure these guys out."

"Right," I said, approaching the gate and said scuffle. Big, nasty looking demons, unarmed except for horns and teeth, as far as I could tell, swarmed at the gate, held back by about thirty of our best slayers. And ten of my greenest students. And they were losing. "Bloody hell!"

Joining the fight near the gaggle of teenage girls, I bellowed, "Form a line!" suddenly grateful that Buffy had made us learn useful battlefield techniques. Quickly, girls lined up in just two rows, the more experienced girls in the front and the others in the back. Unable to keep myself from the fight, I pushed myself into the front row, hacking at the first demon I could reach.

"Nothing gets through," I ordered, trying my best to let my voice rise over the chaos as another demon came at me, dodging the first swing of my sword, but not the next one.

To the right of me, a girl screamed, bitten by one of the demons and I wanted to go to her, but I had to deal with the tosser in front of me first, so I bellowed, "Right side, girls! Plug the hole." As I twisted to draw my blade through another demon, I noticed two of my students save their injured compatriot, one pulling her back from the fight and the other filling her place in line. Good girls.

Warcries screamed and weapons clashed all around me, noxious demon blood everywhere, and I could smell some slayer blood below that, dangerously exciting. Overhead, magic crackled furiously, and I wondered where Angel and Buffy had gone, praying they were still alright. But then, the slayer on my left finished off her demon with a raging yell, grinning at me with joyful fury and I had a realization, I did. In all the worrying about the others, I'd forgotten that it had been ages since I'd had a good tussle. Well, one that wasn't practice with the little slayers or with Angel - and those with him counted as foreplay, really.

Returning the girl's grin, I howled at the demons, practically begging them to attack and letting my true face slip forward. If these demons wanted a fight, fuck, we'd give them a fight!

It took a while, but when the magic above us began to calm down, the girls and I managed to run the demons out. I sent a posse of ten slayers to hunt them and make sure they didn't come back, while the rest of us guarded the gate. "Harris?" I said into my earpiece.

"Yeah, Spike?"

"We've got the South Gate fairly well laced up. What now?"

"Things are winding down," he replied. "Just stay there until we know it's over."

"Alright," I sighed, frustrated. I wanted to go find Angel, see how he was, maybe pick up where we left off before this interruption. But knowing the Scoobies, I had to expect there to be a lengthy debriefing, and then brainstorming and hand-wringing and brooding and all that rot. Lovely.

* * *

_A/N: Hey! Don't forget to review and let me know what you thought of this first chapter. _

_Also, this is the third episode of my 'Vampire/Slayer Archives' season, set after my AU rewrite of Angel Season 5. See those stories if you'd like the complete background for this one. I would especially recommend 'When the Last One Falls', as it explains most of what's going on here. _

_Thanks again for reading!_


	2. Barrage

**Consequence **

Chapter 2 – Barrage

After I left the cafeteria, I could tell it wasn't Nelson trying out an unwise spell that was making me feel sick. Something else, some stranger was pulling on me, pulling on my magical energy. Oh, hell no!

Stumbling, I made my way through the Command Room and into the space beyond. Lined with comfy couches and tables, with a big work space in the middle and bookshelves covering one whole wall, this was my place. This was where I taught magic and where my students and I tended to convene during times like this. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure only I knew something was wrong. And everyone else was eating dinner.

Sitting down and closing my eyes, I poured more energy into the wards around the castle, wondering how someone was getting through them. But, the more energy I gave, the more that stranger pulled, trying to steal it. Grr.

I pushed back against him, strengthening my own personal shields. This was no good at all.

The two of us pushed and pulled over and over again, fighting in a medium only we could feel and see. I wanted to call out, I wanted to tell someone, anyone, we were under attack, but every time I divided my attention to do so, the edges of my vision dimmed dangerously. And then, I pulled a little too hard, the stranger let go, a backlash of energy slammed into me, and everything went black.

* * *

I woke with a start, the alarms blaring and someone shaking my shoulder. "Willow! Willow? Wake up!"

"Huh?" I said, my eyes fluttering open to worried blue eyes and spiked blond hair. "Andrew? What happened?"

"I don't know," the guy said, helping me sit up. "Everything just went _ah-oo-gah_ and Xander asked me to find you. There's all this lightning outside and I think I heard something about demons at the gate."

Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs, I told Andrew, "Someone tried to steal my magic. I couldn't even tell anyone."

"Steal your magic?" Andrew asked. "Whoa, that's not cool."

"It really isn't," I replied, standing up and leading the way back to the Command Room, which was now buzzing with activity.

"So, did they, like…" Andrew asked, right on my heels.

"Get my magic?" I asked. When he nodded, I replied, "No. They didn't." Feeling steadier on my feet, I ran up to Xander, putting a hand on his arm to get his attention away from the monitors and asking him, "What's going on?"

"Major attack," he replied, his eye still on one of the monitors that showed a security-camera view of the main gate. And hell was breaking loose. "See those bright streaks in the sky?" he asked, pointing to the screen.

"Yeah?" I nodded sharply. "Magic?"

"Uh-huh," Xander replied. "Bethany's leading the defense from the top of the West Tower. I think she might want you to get up there."

"Thanks, Xan," I said, patting his arm and hoping he was doing okay. He'd been having trouble focusing since Renee left, but maybe a crisis like this was just the thing to get him over it, to remind him how valuable he was around here.

I ran from the room, heading for the stairs up the tower. Briefly, I considered finding and jumping out the nearest window to fly up there, but I'd probably just get zapped. Better to stay inside and undercover until I knew what was going on. It was a good twenty feet before I realized Andrew was following me.

"Andrew?" I asked, a little winded from all the physical activity. My lungs sure missed the semi-regular Sunnydale patrols and running-for-our-lives.

"I can help," the boy called up at me. "I can, I don't know. Like, hijack some of the demons or something."

"Yeah, good," I nodded, panting as we climbed the cut-stone stairs two at a time, clinging to the railings Xander had installed during his free time.

Lungs burning, heart pumping up in my throat, and leg muscles quivering, I made it up to the top, Andrew not too far behind me. He'd been training with Xander and the Watcher students, and it definitely showed, since he wasn't nearly as winded as I was.

"Beth!" I cried when I saw her, finding at least ten of my students and colleagues up there with her, hurling whatever magic they could muster from the open windows. The witch in question was panting, bent over with her hands on her knees and sweat damping down her long braided brown hair. "What's the sitch?"

"At least five sorcerers," she told me, pointing toward the window. I hurried forward to get a good look. "Over the south wall, to the right, there," she continued, joining me, her brown eyes flashing in the light of the spells cast by our coven. "They're good. Big damage to the stonework outside already. We're having a bitch of a time bringing them down."

"Over there?" I pointed, seeing a few figures in the shadows beyond the wall. The sparks and orbs attacking us seemed to come from that direction.

"Yeah," she nodded, stumbling backward and sitting heavily on the floor. I noticed then that a few more of our witches and warlocks were laid out on the ground, and I prayed to every deity I could think of that they were just resting, that none of them were dead.

"This has to end," I said, more to myself than anyone else. Whoever these guys were, they couldn't hurt my friends and charges. They couldn't hurt _my_ people.

Because I was _Willow_.

And I could destroy them with a thought if I wanted to. And holy crap, did I want to!

But, I couldn't go down that road again. I couldn't let go like that. I had to stay in control. So, I mustered my abilities, closing my eyes and gathering my strength before whispering a spell and sending an explosive ball of energy screaming toward that group of sorcerers. They thought they were safe, sticking together like that, but they weren't. They were fish in an effing barrel.

How scary is that?

* * *

"What's going on?" I asked Buffy as she led me away from Spike and into the castle again. Before stepping over the threshold, I took one last look back to see my boyfriend throwing himself into the fight head first, and I longed to be down there next to him, if only to make sure he wouldn't do something stupid.

"Not sure," Buffy replied, "but they got in first over the wall and onto the garage. Laney found one of the little slayers half-dead and sounded the alarm. We have no idea how many got in before we got up there and pushed them back. It's our job to find and eliminate any that might have gotten through."

Suddenly very worried, I followed Buffy through the hallways, heading towards the back of the building and the service entrances. "The injured slayer? It wasn't ...?"

"No," Buffy told me to my great relief. "Rita's fine. I think Xander sent her toward the dorms to rustle up more help."

"Good," I nodded, letting out an unneeded breath I'd been holding. Rita had taken the job as my assistant, helping me out with the paperwork in between school and training with Dawn, her Watcher. We'd been working together for about a week, and she was really starting to grow on me, so much so that I worried about her safety. Also, I certainly didn't want to have to replace her so quickly.

"Up ahead," Buffy whispered, stopping me with a hand on my arm and nodding toward the storerooms behind the kitchen. Now that I knew they were there, I could smell and hear the intruders clearly.

"Vampires," I told Buffy, who nodded and patted the stake up her jacket sleeve to make sure it was there, hefting her sword again, rebalancing it. I did the same, checking my weapons, and followed Buffy into the room.

"Hey, guys!" she cheerfully greeted the four of them, none very old. At her voice, they all looked up from a pile of paper-wrapped blocks they had stacked up around one of the support columns. Something told me this was not good. Not at all.

Then, one of the vamps went for a device sitting on the ground near them, but I was quicker, throwing my sword through his chest and rushing up to kick him brutally. Now, standing right over the device, I protected it from the others, dusting one vamp right away while Buffy took on the biggest and oldest of the lot.

One of the vampires pulled my sword from his friend's chest and came at me with it, trying to take my head off. Luckily, he had no idea how to use the damn thing. So, I took it back from him, returning the favor and smirking when his head turned to dust before it hit the floor.

Just two left, and one of them was badly injured, easily staked as he made a last-ditch effort to scramble for the device at my feet. The other one though, looked to be giving Buffy some trouble. Every time she hit him, he would stumble, and then come back at her twice as vigorous as before. I got closer, wanting to help, but the two of them danced together so perfectly that there were no openings for me.

Damn.

Just the way Buffy moved, it made me wish I was the one fighting her so I could feel the power behind those fists, feel the way her body shifted and twisted as she fought. So I could feel _her_ again.

But in the next instant, Buffy spun and drove her stake into the vampire's chest, just a fraction of a second faster than he was. She watched as his face contorted open in surprise and then dissolved away into dust. I wondered if Buffy ever had to kill me, would I be surprised when it finally happened? Would she?

As the last of the dust fell, the girl grinned up at me, stowing away her stake and joining me. "You good?" she asked.

"What?" I asked, clearing my throat when she touched my arm. "I mean, yeah. I'm fine."

"What's this?" Buffy asked next, crouching down next to the device.

"Oh," I said, shaking myself out of it. "I'm guessing it blows up the building."

Carefully backing up, she laughed. "Let's not do that! Any idea how to disarm the thing?"

"Well," I told her, explaining the bricks all around us, "they're plastic explosives. If we take out all the detonators …"

"You know about plastic explosives?" she asked, smirking at me. "How?"

"I…" I said, thinking about it. "Spike likes certain movies and TV shows."

"Ones with lots of explosions?" she laughed.

"Yeah," I replied sheepishly, wondering why I'd ever said anything in the first place.

"Well forgive me for questioning your expertise, Angel," she continued. "But I think I'm gonna call Fred for a second opinion."

"Oh," I nodded in agreement, thinking Fred was definitely the person to call, given her and Illyria's previous experiences building bombs, "that's probably a good idea."

Shaking her head and shooting me a beautiful smile, Buffy dialed her phone, spoke for a few seconds and turned toward the nearest stack of bricks, tearing away the paper. "Grayish, I think," she said. After a few more seconds, Buffy told Fred, "Silvery sticks, connected by wires …" Following said wires around the room, Buffy bent down to examine the box they all converged on and sighed, "There's lots of wires here, Fred. I don't think it's a good idea for me to just start pulling on them."

Buffy bent over further to get a better look at the box while Fred spoke to her, and I realized I was staring at her ass, watching her hips shift and twitch when she shuffled over to get a better look. God, I couldn't help but look, knowing what it felt like, touching her. Knowing that if I just said the word, she would be mine again. Knowing that if I wanted, I could bend her over and take her, have her screaming my name …

Fuck.

I loved Spike! And we had sex all the time. There's no way I should be this … nostalgic over Buffy. I shouldn't want her this much. Even if Spike _wanted_ me to want her this much. Even if he would egg me on, whispering in my ear and biting my neck as I took her.

Christ!

This is what happened when Spike got me all worked up and then we got interrupted. I would have been fine if he hadn't sat in my lap like that, whispering in my ear, wriggling against my crotch, kissing me with those lips. Which were currently out on the battlefield outside, damn it.

"Please make it," I whispered, suddenly imagining all the ways Spike could dust when I wasn't there to do anything about it. And then it would be just me and Buffy, and that thought was scarier than all the other thoughts.

"Okay," Buffy said into her phone, standing up and throwing me a questioning glance over her shoulder. Shit, I'd still been staring. I'd been staring at Buffy's ass and worrying about my boyfriend. There was no precedence for how to feel about that.

"What does she say?" I asked, trying to turn my mind back to the situation at hand.

"That we should start at the end of each wire, and pull the pins in order heading toward the detonator box," Buffy replied, bending back down and following one of the wires out. I did the same on the other side, moving away from Buffy with each step.

Then, at the top of one pile of explosives halfway around the column, I found the last pin. "Ready?" I asked Buffy.

"For what?" was her reply.

"To start pulling."

Buffy chuckled. "Angel, I've already pulled like five of them."

"Without warning me?" I cried. And I thought Spike was foolhardy!

"Would a warning really have helped anything? I didn't think it mattered."

"Just," I muttered, aiming for the first pin I'd found and pulling it, "be careful."

"Don't worry, sweetie," Buffy smiled. "I won't blow you up. I promise."

I shook my head and pulled the next pin, making my way around the column. Buffy and I worked in silence, and I found it difficult, keeping my eyes on my work and my hands steady when Buffy smelled … well, good enough to eat.

When we were all done, she smashed the detonation device with her fist and asked, "Do you think this is the only one they set up?"

"I don't know," I replied, sniffing the air. "I could try to backtrack them by smell."

Buffy scrunched up her nose with a smile and nodded, saying, "Let's get –" interrupted by her phone ringing. "Yeah?" she asked. "Okay. See you in a minute."

I gave Buffy an expectant look and she told me, "Xander says the battle's over. They found one more bomb and disarmed it. He doesn't think there are any more."

"Does he know who or what attacked us?" I asked, leaning back against a storage crate, trying not to call and check on Spike right away. He'd just tease me for it. And besides, Buffy would have told me if anything had happened. He had to be fine. Right?

"Nuh-uh," Buffy replied, sitting on a barrel across from me. "But there was lots of magic involved. Willow's going to be pretty out of it for awhile."

"And we were down here, disarming a bomb," I pointed out. "We should have –"

"Hey!" Buffy cried, pointing at me with a teasing glint in her eye. "We saved the whole building, I'll have you know."

God, she was beautiful. I stood up and went to her, holding my hand out to help her down. "You're right."

"Damn-skippy, I'm right," Buffy replied, taking my hand and pulling me closer instead of hopping down. And damn it, I let her.

I had been letting Buffy in like this, slowly getting used to her again, for the past few months. It was a lot like before, except this time I was the hesitant one, unsure of how far I should let things go. Not really knowing whether or not I was leading her on.

Buffy pulled me closer, her hands on the small of my back, her knees spread and flanking my hips. She was gentle, but I had no illusions. She was trying to get me back; trying to convince me that it would work this time around; trying to convince me I could be with her and keep my soul; trying to show me she knew how much I wanted her.

God, as I touched her face, tilted up toward mine and catching the light just right, she felt so warm, so thrumming with life, her heartbeat accelerating as I bent down to kiss her. Kissing her was so unlike kissing Spike. Where he was hard and cool and demanding, she was soft and warm and inviting. Her lips pressed and sucked at mine, her tongue caressing my bottom lip, summoning mine in. Then, Buffy pulled me in even closer with her legs. Closer and closer until …

"Whoa, sorry," someone said from the doorway, fleeing before I could get a good look. However, I did have time to get a good smell, despite how Buffy's arousal clouded my nostrils and sent my head spinning.

"Another vampire," I told Buffy, tearing myself from her arms as I went after the figure. God damn it!

Part of me was infuriated that I'd been interrupted in a romantic position for the second time in an hour, but a bigger part of me was relieved for that interruption. The way things had been heading with Buffy was still too much. And there was no way I could forgive myself for doing anything major with her when Spike wasn't in the room. I was his and even though he'd given me free reign to get close to Buffy, I doubt he'd feel anything but slighted if something serious happened and he wasn't included. Fuck, he might get angry enough to leave me if that happened.

And I wouldn't survive that. How could I?

I caught up with the intruder just down the hallway, since she was very young and still almost human-slow. Angry and frustrated, I slammed her against the wall harder than might have been wise, cracking open a big wound on the back of her head. "Who are you?" I asked, growling at her with my demon's voice in my throat so she knew I wasn't fucking around.

"Li–Lily," she replied, her accent clearly British, probably London. The vampire's eyes flicked over as Buffy joined us. "Lily Miller."

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, shaking her against the wall again with one hand gripping either shoulder.

"I'm sorry …" she whimpered, her eyes flashing yellow. "I was supposed to watch the corridor, I know! But there's all these slayers around, and one of them hit me!"

I stared at the girl for a moment before laughing, a little cruelly. "You think I'm on _your_ side?"

Lily's eyes went wide, flicking over to Buffy again, watching the slayer nod in confirmation. Lily started panicking then, her demon's face surging forward as she tried to break my grasp. It was annoying to say the least, so I flipped her around, wrapping one arm around her neck and using the other to clasp both her hands behind her back. "Let's try this again," I growled in her ear, carefully not meeting Buffy's eye. I hated when she saw me like this. "What are you doing _in this castle_?"

"I just go where he tells me to go!" she cried.

Shaking her again, I asked, "Who? Who tells you where to go?"

"I'm not sure, but I think my sire," she gasped and sobbed, "called him Belial."

"Belial?" I repeated, thinking the name sounded familiar somehow. The vampire in my arms nodded vigorously, probably because she was hoping I'd let her go. Instead, I looked up at Buffy and asked her, "Wanna take this one?"

"Sure," she nodded, her stake falling from her sleeve and into her waiting hand.

"Not too deep," I reminded her, suddenly very aware of how my body was lined up behind Lily's.

Buffy looked the girl in the eyes, shrugged and said, "Sorry," just before plunging the stake directly into her heart. Within a second or two, my hands and arms were full of dust and Buffy smiled at me. "Almost like I know what I'm doing, huh?"

"Almost," I said, brushing my hands together to clean them and smiling when she laughed. "We should go find the others."

"Sure," she nodded, sounding a little disappointed. The tone in her voice plucked at my guilt and who knows whether I was making things better or worse, but I grabbed her hot little hand, holding it in mine as we walked. She grinned up at me with all those pretty white teeth, and I silently promised that I would fuck Spike into the mattress, or the floor, or the wall, or maybe all three, before I let myself kiss Buffy again. It was just too dangerous otherwise.

* * *

_A/N: Chapter two, up and running!_

_I'm guessing that since it's finals season, that's why I'm not getting a lot of reviews. But, if you do get a chance, please let me hear from you. I love knowing you guys are still reading and enjoying this series. :)  
_


	3. The Scoobies Convene

_A/N: I realized that I had a continuity error in the last episode, when Xander spoke to Giles, so I went back and fixed that conversation. I'm a little surprised no one called me on it! :)_

* * *

**Consequence **

Chapter 3 – The Scoobies Convene

Angel dropped my hand when he saw Spike in the hallway, and I found it hard not to feel like the first-runner-up for Prom Queen. Almost good enough, but not quite. Come to think of it, I doubt Spike would appreciate being compared to a Prom Queen.

He did notice Angel's gesture, though, catching my eye with one raised eyebrow as he joined us, heading for the big meeting room next to Xander's Room-o-Screens. I shrugged back at Spike, letting him fill the space between me and Angel. He knew how slow things between Angel and I were progressing and we bitched about it together once or twice a week. Though I was looking forward to being with them and hoping with everything I had that it would actually happen, it was nice having Spike's friendship back, anyways. He had this way of putting things into perspective, which I'd missed while he was gone. Without him, there weren't enough people willing to stand up to me, and I needed that. I needed Spike back on the team.

As the blonde joined us, Angel's hand found the back of his neck, squeezing and massaging, letting the whole world know exactly who was his and who _wasn't_. I tried not to let it hurt. I tried to tell myself Angel didn't mean to be cruel. I tried to tell myself I knew what I was getting into from the beginning. I tried to tell myself what had happened between me and Angel down in the storeroom was progress. I tried to tell myself I didn't need him to be ready for me yet. I tried to tell myself I wasn't wasting my time pursuing this. I tried to tell myself I didn't deserve any more than they were giving me. I tried not to remember how that one night I'd spent with them was one of the best nights I'd had in years, maybe in my entire life.

I tried to remind myself that Angel was just scared of what might happen if things got serious.

The three of us filed into the meeting room, where lots of people were already sitting or standing, including Xander, Giles and Dawn. Little Dawn, all grown up and Watcher-ified! It still surprised me sometimes.

Faith sat on a window ledge, her legs dangling, and I wondered when she'd gotten back. Last I'd heard she was recruiting in Africa somewhere. I was glad for her help, I was glad she was walking the straight and narrow now, but things certainly were less tension-filled around HQ when she was out of town. There were just too many issues where the two of us didn't quite see eye to eye, and neither would back down.

I joined my crew at the front of the room, gasping when I turned around and saw Andrew practically dragging Willow in. She leaned heavily on his shoulders, panting rapidly like she'd just tried to run a marathon in about seven seconds, and her eyes were still completely black. God, I hated seeing her like this. "Will!" I cried out, going to her and helping Andrew get her into a chair. "What happened?"

My friend took a deeper breath, like she was trying to speak, but couldn't, and Andrew answered for her, "This girl totally went Storm on those guys! Smiting them with lightning bolts like she was a goddess! Or a really cool superhero..."

"Why did you push yourself like this?" I asked her, crouching down in front of Willow and taking her hands in mine.

"No one," she gasped, "else! ... Had to ... stop them!"

"Did she really?" I asked Andrew and the witch standing behind him.

"No," the witch replied. "She could have worked with us, like we've been training to!"

"Wills," I muttered in disappointment, hugging her forehead to my shoulder and rubbing her back as she slowly returned to normal. Damn it! Turning to Xander, I asked him, "Why did you send her out without me? Why did you let me mess around in the basement when she needed me?"

"Buff," he began, looking around at all the people in the room as if to remind me they were there. When I glared at him, refusing to back down, Xander crouched down next to me at Willow's knee and explained, "We couldn't find Willow for the longest time."

"Got attacked ... before it ... started," Willow told us. "Passed out ... in my lounge."

Suddenly, Andrew crouched down with us, joining the little Scooby huddle and saying, "That's just how it happened, you guys. I found her!"

"Thanks, Andrew," I said facetiously, patting him on the shoulder.

"When you had Spike lead the troops at the gate," Xander continued his explanation in a harsh whisper, "I figured intruder-finding was the next priority. And just like I thought, you saved us in the nick of time. It's kinda your main skill..."

"Uh, ladies and Xander?" Spike broke in over my shoulder, ignoring Andrew's offended, "Hey!" "Her Highness' subjects are getting restless." He looked up at the rest of the room, and I finally grew self-conscious.

"Yeah, Buffy," Dawn called from the far side of the room, now standing next to her new slayer sidekick. "Quit being a jerk and let the rest of us know what's going on."

"Don't call me a jerk!" I called back as I stood, indulging in a little immaturity. "You lame-brain!"

Dawn stuck her tongue out at me, pulling it back in sheepishly when Giles gave her that Giles-y disapproving British glare.

"So," I asked so that everyone could hear and turned to Xander, "do we have any idea who or what this was?"

"I don't know, Buffy," he complained, taking his place near the head of the room again. "There were demons and sorcerers working together, and they came after us here. Whoever it is, it's got to be someone with big enough cojones to attempt getting past our defenses."

"Bloody hell," Spike said, leaning back by Angel. "It's not a bloke like Adam again is it? Demonic messiah or whatnot? Bringing them all together?"

"Sheesh," I frowned, thinking of the possibility. "I hope not!" I really didn't want to deal with a guy like Adam again. Though now that I had a couple of hundred friends...

"Belial," Angel blurted out, interrupting my thoughts. "That's what the girl said," he reminded me, meeting my eyes with his dreamy brown ones. "The vampire in the storeroom."

"You know him?" I asked.

"No," Angel replied, shaking his head. "But we should find out who he is right away."

"Oh!" Xander cried. "I'm remembering something!"

"Run across him in your many hours of researching, Xander?" Giles asked, prodding his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger.

"No, no," Xander said, sitting down in one of the chairs around the table and putting his head on his hands on the surface, as if that would help him think. "I heard that name recently...but where?"

"Human," Fred called in her Illyria voice as she strode into the room, "you speak of Belial, one of my peers and one of the most powerful princes of Hell."

"Friend of yours, Blue?" Spike asked her.

"I have never had dealings with this creature, but I have heard tales of him. Belial exists to perpetrate vice for vice's sake. He is rife with lust and violence, inciting such attributes in men and controlling his demons to aid him in his wickedness."

"Sounds like a party animal!" Dawn piped up, her face much less enthusiastic than her voice.

"Ah!" Xander cried. "Fred, remember? Josh said he used to work for Belial! That he was hiding from him because he was afraid the guy would deport him back to hell!"

It seemed, though, that Fred wasn't at home, because she tilted her head, a primitive and almost reptilian gesture, to stare at him with bright blue eyes.

"Wait," Angel said, uncrossing one of his arms from over that nummy chest of his and pointing at Xander. "Josh? Incubus Josh?"

"Yeah," Xander agreed forcefully.

Angel thought, face blank, for just a moment before he booked it out of the room like nobody's business. I almost expected Spike to go with him, but the blonde vampire just stood there and rolled his eyes.

"Where did he…?" Giles asked, looking about as confused as most of the room.

"The Great Forehead is checkin' up on his prisoner," Spike told us, snorting and shaking his head.

"So," Willow gasped, looking up at me. "This whole thing could have been … about getting one minor demon back?"

"Could be," I nodded, patting her shoulder again. "And even if it's not, we should find out everything we can about this Belial guy, and maybe even about 'Incubus Josh'."

"Research mode?" Dawn asked, and I nodded.

"Research mode." At the groans around the room, I said, "If musty old books and Internet searches aren't your thing, talk to Xander about patrolling the walls. It would be nice to see it coming if we're gonna get attacked again. Everyone else, to the library!"

Amid further moans and murmurs, most everyone filed out, Giles leading the way toward the library. He probably wanted to get there first to protect his books from dozens of grubby student hands. The poor guy was stressed enough when it was just us Scoobies invading his domain all the time, and not dozens upon dozens of good guys. Willow had one of the slayers help her up, promising to stay seated once she got to the library. Xander hurried back to his monitors and his headset, taking that situation in hand. And Spike stayed put, with me.

"Alright, luv?" he asked, turning to face me and brushing an escaped lock of hair behind my ear.

"Peachy," I replied, leaning into his hand as much as I dared. "How 'bout you?"

"Well enough."

Then, I asked the question I hated asking, but had to anyway, "Did we lose anyone?"

"Not that I know of," he told me, his voice low and soft as he brushed my cheek with one thumb, the rest of his fingers running past my jaw and curling behind my neck, almost possessively. The gesture had my slayer instincts screaming, since this was a vampire, practically grabbing me by the neck. But, it was also Spike, gazing down at me with soft, pretty eyes, before he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

"So," I murmured against his shoulder, "everyone's okay?"

"There were a few serious injuries," he replied, burying his face in my hair and inhaling silently, his ribcage expanding almost human-like. "But Dr. Jerry thinks they'll pull through."

Suddenly I took a sharp breath, a thought coming to me. "Does he have enough help?"

"I saw a few little slayers roped into the operation when we dropped Ginger off."

"When you dropped off who?"

Spike chuckled, "Don't recall her name, do I? Ginger lass, lots of red hair."

"I ..." I began, thinking about who he was talking about. God, it was hard enough remembering all their names when there were only fifteen of them. "I don't know."

We shared a moment of silence, hugging each other as Spike inhaled again. "Smell like him, Buff,"

Like who? Oh. Like Angel. Creepy vampires, smelling everything. "Is that okay?"

"More than okay," he growled in my ear, nipping at it sharply.

"Things got pretty far," I told Spike, squirming so I could meet his eyes. "You're sure you're not jealous?"

"That you're making out with my boyfriend?" he whispered, leaning in again to kiss my neck, nibbling on it and making me gasp. "No, luv. Just don't fuck him without me there, yeah?"

"Yeah," I breathed as Spike pulled me close all of a sudden, our bellies and thighs pressed together excitingly. "Of course. But," I pushed back at him, "I'm thinking really isn't a great time for this."

"It really isn't," Angel said from the door. "The incubus is gone."

I tried to pull away from Spike, but the blonde vampire wasn't letting me have any of it. Instead, he rested his temple on my head, watching as Angel approached us and just begging him to complain about the compromising position.

Angel didn't though, clapping Spike roughly on the shoulder as he said, "They took him right out the front door."

"You told Xander?" I asked, prying Spike's arms from around my waist, but letting him keep one of my hands in his.

"Yeah," Angel said, leaning back against the meeting room table. "He's going through the security tapes, trying to see how they escaped."

"Well, it weren't past me, luv," Spike insisted. "So once out the door, they must've sneaked back over the wall some other way."

I sighed, sitting down on the table next to Angel. "It never ends, does it?" I asked them, playing with Spike's hand in mine.

"No, not for us," Angel agreed, putting one of his hands over ours and giving me a small encouraging smile. It was nice, having both of them here with me, not bickering or bristling. Just being together. We spent a few minutes in silence, just holding hands, and it made me hopeful. It made me think that I wasn't deluding myself, that Angel wanted to make this work. Eventually though, it had to come to an end and Angel spoke up, "Everyone's in the library?"

I nodded, returning Angel's smile and squeezing his wrist in thanks. "You go ahead. I'm gonna help with the patrol."

Angel brushed a loving hand over my head, kissed Spike, and left the room. As Spike watched him go, the blonde tilted his head in a way that made me sure he was appreciating Angel's ass. I giggled, drawing Spike's attention. "What?"

"You're just so obvious sometimes," I replied.

"Yeah?" he asked with a grin. "Guess I don't really do _subtle_."

"Not very well," I agreed, watching as his head turned toward the empty doorway again. "Oh, just go with him, Spike," I chuckled again, rolling my eyes.

"You're sure?" he asked, gripping my hand tighter.

"Yes," I said clearly. "I need to go patrol and you're too distracting to be around right now."

"If I _could_ help you out, pet," Spike told me, stepping closer and kissing the side of my neck again, his voice husky and low, "I _would_."

"Just go!" I chuckled again, pushing his face away from me with both hands.

Spike snorted an amused sort of noise, saluted as he walked away, and called ahead of him, "Hey, Ange! Wait up, you bloody tosser!"

Some things just never change.

* * *

Around an hour after we started researching, Dawn found me back in the stacks, sitting on the carpet alone, pretending to read some bloody demon guide while pretending _not _to fantasize about Buffy naked.

"Hey, Spike," she said, kneeling down on the floor next to me. "Got a minute?"

"What?" I asked, confused as I broke out of my head-space to see her right in front of me. "For you, pet?" I finally managed to say, "I've got _hours_."

"Don't," she frowned, sitting down on her heels. The littlest Summers took issue with most of the things I'd done since returning to the fold, including dating her sister.

Not that she thought I shouldn't be with Buffy, but she could be very polar about her opinions on me dating her sister while still with Angel. At first, I tried to explain to her that I couldn't leave Angel, even if I wanted to. We were just too sodding addicted to each other. And I wasn't giving up on Buffy. Not when Angel wanted her more than he even knew. Not when I knew we could make her happy. Not when I knew she was a bloody force of nature and too much for one man to hold onto for long. Not when I knew Buffy needed me, needed us, so much more than she would ever admit.

Dawn thought all of us deserved more than that, and by letting Buffy into my relationship with Angel, I was selling myself short, along with the others. And who the fuck knows? Maybe I was. But I figured the rewards were worth the risk, that they were worth a little sacrifice, especially when the reward was Buffy.

"Fine," I sighed, setting down the book I wasn't reading and watching Dawn's face as she tried to bring forth the words she was looking for.

It probably didn't help matters that the lass was still angry with me for failing to announce to Buffy and Dawn and the whole soddin' world that I was undead again in LA last year. I knew Buffy would be hurt when she found out about me, and I was hoping that would never happen, that staying with Angel would keep her away, keep the temptation away. I never thought about what Dawn might think of the omission. I never thought she'd be so angry with me that it would keep her from speaking more than two words at a time to me for near on a month. I didn't even know innocent little Dawn _knew_ those two words.

Though, much of the silent treatment that first month might have been due to her _condition_, which I couldn't quite help but tease her about. I mean, the bint was fifty fucking feet tall! Just you try to resist!

"It's about your trip to the States," she finally managed to say.

"Miss me, did you?" I asked with a grin, refusing to back down under the hard 'Fuck you' glare she gave me.

"I've just been reading Wesley's journals lately, and –"

"You what, now?" I cut in, surprised. "How did you even get your soddin' hands on such a thing?"

Scrunching up her brows in confusion, she asked, "You didn't know?"

"Didn't know Poindexter kept a record," I told her, looking away and sniffing dispassionately. "Don't know how you'd get it if he did. Though, the notion that he would keep something poncey like that should've occurred to me."

"Well, he did," Dawn told me, pulling one of said books out from behind her back. "And he sent them to Giles every so often."

I waited for the nibblet to continue, but she must have been waiting for me to respond. "And?"

"And, he gives detailed accounts of most of Cordelia's visions."

"Goody on him," I huffed, pulling my legs in and stretching my arms out over them, resting the insides of my elbows on my knees. "What does this have to do with me?"

"You said your visions for the last mission were different?"

"Ah," I nodded, wishing Giles wouldn't try to stake me for smoking in here. And I think Angel might let him, the bastard. "Aye, pet. Last visions were all jumbled-like. Incomplete, but happening all the bloody time, yeah?"

"I'm interested in why they might have been different," Dawn said, her eyes lowered, but her voice forceful, like she'd been practicing the words for awhile. "Especially now that the incubus is _missing_ …"

"You're wonderin' if there was somethin' else goin' on?" I guessed, trying to catch her eye and failing. "Don't know, Dawn," I told her. "Though I reckon there must have been a reason they were different. I thought maybe the Powers were testing me, you know? Like, 'If the blighter can figure this out, we might as well keep 'im'. "

"What if it was something else?" Dawn asked me, her blue eyes finally coming up to meet mine. "I mean, what if someone else was trying to keep you from having the visions?"

"Huh," I grunted, thinking about the possibility. The visions that led me to the demon terrorizing Peddleford, New Hampshire weren't usual by any stretch of the imagination. They were disorienting and incomplete, leaving me with impressions rather than the clear directives I'd come to expect since having that first vision – the one that saved Fred and killed Wesley. "What about the ponce's journals made you think of this, pet? And why would you _want_ to think on the issue in the first place?"

Dawn huffed and then she sighed, glaring at me again, "I was trying to _help_, Spike."

"Alright, alright!" I muttered. "Don't have to get all shirty about it. 'Twas just a question."

"Shirty?" she asked, her face slowly breaking into a smile. "You're so weird sometimes," she chuckled, taking a deep breath before she continued. "So, some sort of demony-interference could be the reason for your weird visions?"

"Anything's possible," I replied, sighing. "Might as well look into it, yeah?"

"Sure," she nodded, giving me one last little smile before standing up and leaving. Well, that smile was progress anyway. Maybe the lass was on her way to forgiving me. Though I could see it already – when Angel was ready to let Buffy really be with us, little sis would go off again. Well, had to grow up eventually, didn't she? Now that she had her own little slayer to Watch and everything.

Thank God I don't have to.

* * *

_A/N: So, what did you think? This is the first time I've done Buffy's point of view in this series, and I hope I got it right… Oh, and more than one review per chapter would be really awesome of you guys._


	4. A Plan

**Consequence**

Chapter 4 - A Plan

"Here, Wills," Dawn said, handing me another book, one that I'd asked for twenty minutes ago. I would have been able to find it in three, but whenever I so much as thought about standing up, everyone in the room glared at me.

"Thanks," I murmured, cracking open the book and trying to focus on finding the essay referenced in my previous book. I was following the "Belial is a Prince of Hell" line of inquiry, and so far came up with diddly-squat.

For the thousandth time that night, I wondered why the hell I'd used so much magic so quickly, without taking even just a second or two to ground myself between spells. Why was I so certain that I had to act alone?

And Beth was right. I should have been working with the others from the start. I should have told someone where I was going after dinner and what was wrong so I wouldn't have missed the beginning of the battle. But I thought it was nothing. I thought I could handle it. And this is where hubris gets you – practically tied to your chair in the library, lungs aching, pulse pounding, stomach roiling and head throbbing. And you don't even know who you defeated or why.

The more I thought about it though, the more certain I became that someone had knocked me out on purpose. So I couldn't mount a proper defense. Or, so I would lose control again, become Dark Willow again. Try to kill all my friends again. How could they know? How wide was the knowledge that I could become someone else? Who knew that it was getting more and more difficult not to slip every day since LA? Who outside our people would know that? Who from within our people would know that?

Buffy, Xander, Kennedy. That was it. Those were the only people who knew how badly I was faring since LA. Not even Angel knew. I didn't want him and Spike to feel bad about getting Buffy to ask me to come. I wouldn't even have told Buffy and Xander, except they had to know why I wasn't around to teach. They had to know, because they were the two people I trusted to keep me from slipping back, Xander especially.

Which just left Kennedy. I thought she would always be there for me. Now I knew I was wrong and wondered, what had she been doing since we broke up? Did she like it in Brazil? Had she opened her big mouth and told someone about me? Could she have done such a thing out of spite or was it an accident?

Maybe it was time to tell Giles and the rest of the Devonshire Coven. I knew that I'd grown beyond them, in the scale and breadth of my power, but I still trusted them. I still trusted Heloise's wisdom, most of all. I was trying to _learn_ wisdom, but I had this sinking feeling that wisdom only came from experience and time. That it came from hindsight. And I was only two and a half years out from the incident. There was Willow from B.I. (before the incident) and there was A.I. Willow (not a Willowbot, I'll have you know). And still, I couldn't quite see all the differences between the two. I knew why the first Willow turned into the second, but I wasn't yet sure I knew exactly what inside me changed.

And what about the next big spell I did? Would that push me into another incident? Now two years more powerful, how little time would it take me to destroy everything? High on magic, would I even know what I was doing, who I was hurting?

Well, shit.

If I couldn't even figure out how to do this much magic and keep myself together, how could I ever hope to teach my students how to be responsible? Hold myself up as an example of what not to do? Say, hey kids, I know you're supposed to respect me as your teacher and everything, but I don't know what the fuck I'm doing half the time! That would not go over well with the sponsors, let me tell you…

"Um, Willow," Giles said, interrupting my thoughts by sitting back down next to me, several more books in his hands. "Are … are you alright?"

This was it, this was the opportunity I'd been waiting for, wasn't it? Even though there were lots of people around, I could tell him, I could ask Giles for help. I could … "Better!" I smiled falsely. "Much better. Thanks, Giles."

Crap! Why had I done that? Go on, Willow. You can do it. He's just Giles. He won't give you that disapproving look. Not if you come clean now…

Oh, who are you kidding? That look is permanently etched into his face. You just have to get over it and tell him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "You used a lot of magic earlier. I thought … Well, I thought after what happened in LA, which you still haven't told me about, I'll have you know, that maybe–"

"Hey!" one of the little slayers called. "Hey, guys! I found him. Belial, Fourth Prince of Hell," she cried, thumping a huge tome down on the table in front of me.

"Ow!" I cried, clutching my head and ignoring Giles' renewed disappointment, obviously no longer convinced that I was 'fine'.

Everyone got really excited about the book, tossing out new information the more and more we learned, coming up with theories and counter-theories, formulating strategy. All I could think about was the pounding in my head, the sick feeling that I might have to perform another rash spell, and the looming dread that someone out there knew my limits much better than I did.

* * *

While Buffy's people and Fred got more and more excited about whatever it was that they found in the books, I got more and more anxious. There were too many people around. Live people, with thumping hearts and the smell of slayer blood all over them, calling to get out. Shit, it hadn't been this bad for a while. Not since I had Spike to feed from. While he wasn't alive, he did taste better than human, almost as good as slayer. It was something to keep the cravings at bay. Usually.

Even though I'd fed from him that morning, there were just too many slayers around for me to handle being near them and not wanting to plunge into the first neck I saw. This is what I got for skipping lunch, wasn't it?

I had to get away from them for awhile.

So, I let a slayer take my chair and melted away into the lonelier expanses of the library, following my nose until I found him. Spike looked up at me as I approached, raising one eyebrow and one corner of his lips in greeting. He looked like he was reading a book but as I crouched down in front of him, I noticed that it was upside-down. Smirking, I said, "I didn't know you could read Russian, precious."

"I'm a man of many talents, luv," he replied, frowning when I plucked the book out of his hands and turned it over for him. "Oh," he murmured before scoffing and setting the book aside. "Well, you know the Scoobies. If you don' look busy enough, they'll give you something insanely _boring_ to do."

I chuckled and rearranged myself so my back was resting against the bookshelves next to his. Resting my head against his, winding my arm around his arm so my hand rested atop Spike's on his knee, I sighed. "They think they've found something."

"So why aren't you helping?" he asked, his voice low and comforting as he grabbed my fingers in his. "Isn't that all you used to do in LA? Read boring books and then go kill things? Come to think on it," he chuckled low in his throat, a sound that never failed to make me shiver, "that's all you've ever done, pet."

"Glad to know you think so highly of me," I murmured, turning my face and breathing Spike in, nuzzling my nose and lips against his neck. Wanted to get lost there so badly…

Spike shuddered and said, "Think anyone'll notice if we bugger off for a few moments?"

"What if they start making plans without us?" I asked him.

"Hopefully it's not the end of the world," he smiled, hauling himself to his feet and giving me a hand so I could do the same. "And those pretty _yellow_ eyes of yours are begging for attention, Ange."

"Fuck," I muttered, shaking my head and willing the demon away as Spike led me deeper into the stacks. Geez, this place had a big library for a Slayers' boarding school! Giles must have spent millions upon millions of dollars just filling all these shelves. It all seemed so unnecessary, since most of the books back here had nothing to do with the supernatural. Oh, well. Giles was an educator through and through.

Eventually, we reached a door, which Spike hauled open. "It's a broom closet," I told him.

Spike rolled his eyes and said, "I know that, you dolt. Where did ya think I was leading you?"

"But Buffy said," I started lamely, stopping when Spike sealed my lips with a kiss and then shoved me back toward the closet, _hard_.

"Buffy said," my boyfriend grinned, "don't get _caught_ anymore. Didn't she, luv? We're perfectly safe back here, since it's not like any of those younglings would ever voluntarily pick up one of these books."

Closing the door behind him, Spike filled up the remaining room between me and the door, pressing his body against mine. "You're unbelievable sometimes, Will," I told him as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, receiving only a chuckle in reply. Instinct wanted to win out and I let it this time, knowing Spike and I were safe here, alone together. Fangs buried into flesh and I groaned against his skin as soon as the blood hit my throat, making me rock hard in an instant and desperate for more.

"Ah, there he is," Spike whispered, one thumb caressing the ridges of my forehead before both hands found my belt buckle.

Pants and boots were shed and my lips found their way from Spike's neck back to his mouth. "Thanks," I murmured against his lips, the bloodlust channeled into needing to be near him, needing to touch him.

"O' course, Angel," Spike replied with a shrug, kneading my ass cheek with one hand. "Could feel from a mile off you needed to bite someone."

"Need you," I whispered, pressing him back against the door and catching the back of one of his naked knees so I could lift it. "Always need you, Spike."

"I know," he murmured back, letting me bring up that leg and then the other. "Even though you said earlier you wanted this t'other way round."

"I did say that," I chuckled, backing off for a moment. "Didn't I?"

"It'd take too long," Spike muttered, pulling me closer again with crossed ankles behind my back. "Just fuck me, _Liam_," he crooned, that name making my heart clench. Not only did it sound like the best thing I'd ever heard falling from his lips (maybe second best) but I was also glad he'd remembered our earlier conversation.

We worked up a good rhythm quickly, getting so close to the end I could taste it, Spike's fangs buried in my neck, holding on, giving me just the right amount of pain. And then, someone outside the closet cleared her throat and knocked. Panicking, I tried to still, but my hips twitched on their own a few times, wanting to finish. Spike let his demon's face melt away and called through the door, "Sod off!"

"C'mon guys," Buffy called to us through the door. "We've got a mission."

Without realizing it, I growled out loud in frustration and thrust into Spike, making him grunt loudly as I buried myself in his body and slammed him against the door. Taking a deep breath, he called out shakily, "Pet, if you try to stop this now, you're like to get killed! Fuck off for five minutes, yeah?"

When Buffy sighed and left, I picked up the pace again, though I did feel the need to pant out, "Don't talk to her like that, Will."

"What," he grunted again, "should I say, luv?" Spike let his head fall back against the door, closed his eyes, and moaned like I'd never heard from him, voice higher and louder than its usual deep, sexy rumble, "Oh, fuck yes, Angel!"

Stopping my hips in surprise, I hissed, "What was that?"

"Oh, baby!" he cried louder, even though I hadn't done anything. "Bugger me right proper, you big strong stud! Give it to me good!"

Dropping one of his legs so I could clap a hand over Spike's mouth, I asked, "What the fuck are you doing?"

I could feel his lips smile against my palm as he lifted his leg again and used the door's leverage to thrust himself back onto me, forcing my eyes to roll back into my head. "Ohhh..."

My knees weakened and I had to take my hand from Spike's mouth to catch my weight against the door so we wouldn't fall, which gave him the perfect opportunity to chuckle and whisper in my ear, "Lass never left, luv."

Picking up the pace again, because not fucking Spike was getting painful, I asked, "So, what? You're putting on a show for her?"

His voice loud beside my ear again, Spike called out, "Oh, daddy, yes! Fuck me, daddy! Fuck me!"

That one was so unexpected and Spike put so much melodrama into his voice, I couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Don't," I gasped in laughter, grabbing his prick to shut him up and really push him over the edge, "call me that, you fucking deviant!"

"Takes one to know one, lover," he replied, whispering just for me as I stroked him. "Oh, Angel," he groaned softly, more like he was wont to. "Keep ... yes, keep doing that."

"Love you, Will," I sighed in his ear as my laugher faded. These last few moments were just for us, finding what we needed in each other. Maybe a minute of silent understanding and blissful union later, I followed Spike directly into orgasm, my legs locking and my whole body trembling as I held onto him, pinning him against the broom closet door as the shudders faded.

"Love you, too, Liam," my boyfriend murmured, kissing my neck as I pulled away and let him down. "And I love doing that!" he smirked.

Putting my clothes back in order and finding a towel to wipe my hand on, I jokingly said, "That little show of yours ... were you trying to scare Buffy off for good?"

"No … But at least," he grinned in the almost-darkness as he buckled his belt, "I made you sound good, luv. Like a right stallion."

"You made me sound like I ask you to say those ridiculous things," I pointed out, reaching around him to open the door inward, pulling Spike flush against my body to make room for it.

Chuckling as he kissed me, Spike replied, "Guess we'll just have to show 'er otherwise, yeah?"

"Can't you two ever keep it in your pants?" Buffy asked when she saw us, and as Spike said, she wasn't that far off. The smirk on her lips and the twinkle in her eye belied the scolding tone in her voice as she turned, expecting us to follow.

"Oh, you know this one," Spike chuckled, lacing his fingers in mine. "Can't go two hours without either killin' somethin' or stickin' his dick somewhere."

"I think you're confusing me with you, hon," I replied.

Spike laughed, "Yeah, you're pro'bly right, Ange."

"From what I heard," Buffy said, stopping to look back at us as she turned a corner, "Angel wasn't the one moaning like a porn star." Spike laughed again, pointing at Buffy in recognition until she continued, "Who couldn't act her way out of a paper bag."

My boyfriend scoffed in mock indignation and I didn't know whether to be amused or concerned that Buffy could make that comparison. It just didn't seem like something she should have seen… And did Buffy say, 'her'?

And then we were back with the others, Buffy shouting to calm everyone down and Xander handing me a book. "What's this?" I asked him.

Turning toward the rest of the group, Xander called, "I'm only gonna say this all once, now that everyone's here!" The boy caught my eye with a significant look, like he knew what Spike and I were up to, so I gave him a frown that said it was none of his fucking business that I needed to screw my boyfriend so I wouldn't vamp out on the little slayers. It was none of his business that there were good reasons I'd lived a fairly solitary life for the last hundred years and that living here, in the middle of all this delicious life tended to push my buttons from time to time. None whatsoever.

Xander frowned back at me before turning to stand beside me, facing the others. "One of the vampires who attacked the castle tonight told Angel and Buffy her boss' name was Belial. Belial, as far as we can tell, is one of the oldest princes of hell – one of Lucifer's fellow fallen angels and everything. Yeah, he's the real deal. He's big and he's scary, but the good news is, according to Willow, he can't access his legions upon legions of armies from the hell dimensions she closed off."

"Is that why we were attacked by so many different kinds of demons and shit?" Rita asked, standing next to Dawn with wide eyes. "I mean, it doesn't sound like that's a normal occurrence."

"It's not," I told her with a little smile. "Demons tend to stick to their own." Beside me, Spike huffed a small laugh and tapped my boot with his, seeming to say we two demons were each other's own. I smiled at him quickly as Xander continued.

"Yeah, we think this guy's evil mojo is off the charts," Xander nodded. Then, he pointed to the open page of the book he'd given me. "That's why we think the best plan would be to get this thing first."

"What is it?" Spike asked, leaning closer and setting his hand on my back to get a better look at the page.

"It's an artifact," Xander said. "A holy relic to protect us from this demon – hey, Wills? What did that one book call him?"

"An archdemon," the redheaded witch called back, antsy in her assigned chair.

Xander nodded, "That's right. This artifact is supposed to be good against archdemons. Said to be made by the archangel Michael himself. Keeps a whole force-field around a place. "

Spike gave a low whistle and I took a better look at the woodcut image on the page. The artifact looked more like a shallow bowl with a short flared base than a holy weapon. "How big is it?" I asked, trying to read the script from around the picture, and failing.

"Oh!" Dawn cried, hurrying up and taking the book from my hands. She scanned the page quickly and said, "Less than a hand-span. Well that's not very specific, is it? Are we talking a tiny Buffy hand-span or a big Xander hand-span?"

"So not very large," I nodded. "That'll make it easier to get back here. Where is it?"

"You're okay to…" Buffy asked, looking up at me.

"Yes," I nodded, meeting her eyes and finding myself smiling at her involuntarily. "I'll go get it. Sounds right up my alley. Hon, you want to come with?" I asked Spike.

"Tally ho," he nodded. "Though not sure sending two creatures of the night after the holiest of holies could be called a _great_ plan."

Buffy turned to us and said softly, "I'd rather have you two on this mission, because I know you can take care of yourselves. I hate to let you go, but I want to keep everyone else here, where they'll have the best chance to be safe from this thing. Where I can protect them."

"I understand," I told her, clasping her elbow in a compassionate gesture. "We'll figure it out, Buffy."

"So," Spike asked the rest of the group in a louder voice. "Where is this thing, how do we get there, and is there time for a stiff drink first?"

"It's in Cambridge," Willow said, clicking at her computer, "at the Museum of Archeology and Anthropology."

"So we don't have to wait for the plane to get back from China," I pointed out. "We'll drive down there." Looking to Buffy, I asked, "Do you want anyone else to come with us?"

"No," she shook her head. "You'll work better on your own, anyway." I nodded. She was probably right. Spike and I had always made a good team, even when we hated each other. And with a museum to get into and out of without killing anyone or getting caught, I'd need someone as good as Spike at my side.

"Right then, luvs," Spike mumbled. "Bit of a nap and then we'll hit the road?"

Murmuring in agreement, I took one last look at the picture of the artifact I was looking for, thinking we'd probably have to get a good bag to put it in, so neither of us would have to touch it directly. Maybe we should bring gloves, too? Damn holy relics. You could never tell which one would burn when you touched them. Towing Spike behind me, I left the library, stopping when Buffy called out to us just outside the doors.

"Guys?"

"Yes?" I asked, turning back to her, getting an armful of Buffy for my trouble. She squeezed me tight around the middle, and I found my lips kissing the hair on the top of her head, hugging her shoulders.

"Be careful," she whispered against my chest. "Okay?"

"We will," I assured her, smiling at Spike as he stepped up behind her to hug both of us. Buffy turned around in our arms to grasp Spike next, and it was nice having a warm body between us, smelling sweetly of love and worry. Our Buffy.

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to Hortense, who kicked me into gear to get this chapter finished and out to you!_

_I have been working on a Bones story, which takes off from the season finale. The reaction I'm getting to that fic is so difficult to set aside! If you want me to dedicate more time to 'Consequence', please leave a review. When I hear from you it makes me that much more excited to keep writing. _

_Oh, and I didn't really beta read this at all, so sorry if there's a few mistakes. I'll probably catch them all within a few days. If you're interested in beta-reading for this series, send me a PM and we'll work something out. It should be an easy job, since I'm a grammar nazi. I just tend to skim over when I'm reading my work for the third or fourth time.  
_

_Thanks again for reading!  
_


	5. Loss

**Consequence **

Chapter 5 – Loss

After a few hours rest and a meal, Ange and I made great time down to Cambridge. However, we had to wait for the sun to go down before we could really get going on our mission, since neither of us knew the city well enough to find a safe place to park. Instead we sat in a public car park, in Angel's ridiculously conspicuous bright blue sports car, and talked.

"How's the assistant workin' out for you, luv?" I asked him, still a little miffed that we were only talking. I could have used a little more, if you know what I mean, but Angel wouldn't even let me blow him in the semi-public setting. For how kinky the bastard is, he can be such a prude sometimes.

"Good so far," he nodded, his eyes following a woman as she approached a car bear us before getting in and driving off. "She's so young, though."

"Thought you liked 'em young," I ribbed him, earning a flashing smile of disapproval before he turned away again.

"How do you deal with it?" he asked suddenly. "Having so many slayers around all the time?"

"That what last night was about?" I asked him, humming when he nodded. I'd wondered. Not very often that the ponce lost control like that, letting his eyes change color. Usually when he let the demon out, he'd done it on purpose. Thinking about the issue for a moment, I finally settled on telling him, "Behavior modification ain't all it's cracked up to be."

"What?" he asked, turning back to me and watching my face. "The chip?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I've gotten used to being able to attack the living again, but every time I think about biting one of 'em, I get this twinge, you know? In my head."

"And that helps?"

I shrugged, "Wouldn't recommend it, though. Near on three years being muzzled? Wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, much less my best mate."

Angel grabbed my hand in his and smiled. He loves any words of affection, my man. Must have to do with how long he'd been alone before and after the slayer. Then, his smile faded, he sighed, and then confessed, "Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if we lived somewhere else."

Figuring it would be pointless to remind him again of our reasons for taking up residence in Scotland, I suggested, "Could take up smoking, Ange. Dulls the senses, makes it easier to ignore how good they smell."

"That why you do it?" he asked, eyebrows raised like he couldn't believe I would do something so sensible.

"No," I emphatically replied, disliking the implications of that expression. "I do it because it looks cool, that and the bloody nicotine addiction. Thought you would've known that."

"I've been known to be surprised by you on the very rare occasion," he smirked, eyes drifting out the windows again, but keeping his hand in mine.

In no time, I could tell that Angel's mind was half-occupied about the mission ahead, the way he stared in one spot for far too long and then nodded to himself. As much fun as it was watching him and feeling his emotions through our shared blood, I got bored. So, I moved on to talking about our favorite topic of late, the Slayer.

"Think she'll get on without us?" I asked my boyfriend, catching his eye and trying not to focus on how nice it would be to pass the time by kissing those lips of his.

"She's been doing fine without either of us this past year," he assured me, his hand leaving mine and finding the back of my neck, comforting both of us.

"Things changed, pet," I pointed out to him, feeling already the inevitable end of this conversation and the lack of snogging that would follow, "when we slept with her."

"I know," he sighed with a squeeze of his hand. "It's getting more and more difficult to keep my hands off her."

I scoffed, pulling away from his hand. "You're making things more difficult than they have to be, luv. You could just let go..."

Angel frowned at me, but didn't respond to my favorite complaint of late, the git. Fine, two of us could play that game. I shut my mouth and turned my eyes out the window, watching the people going into and out of the shops. It'd been a long time since I'd been to Cambridge and nothing looked familiar. Of course, I had last seen the city at night, and I'd been more interested in the warm meals all around than the sights. Sometimes having been around for over a century just doesn't have the pay off you think it should.

Then, Angel spoke again. "I don't mean to make things harder," he whispered, still looking away from me. That was the most I'd gotten out of him in two months, and hope clenched at my belly, making me miss the feeling of my heart beating in excitement. Continuing in a soft voice, he confessed, "I just don't ... I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," I promised him, grabbing Angel's hand and pulling it into my lap, lacing his fingers with mine. He always responded better to tactile reassurances, rather than just words, yeah? "Whatever happens with the lass, you won't."

Angel nodded and that was his last response until the sun set and we could start checking out the museum we had to knock over.

* * *

When the second attack came, I was fast asleep, tucked into the bed in my room, Xander just across the main room of our suite. The stranger, either Belial or one of his sorcerers, yanked on me again, ripping me out of sleep and into violent consciousness. The severity of the attack, tearing out the center of me, the core where all my magic sat, made me so sick that I did vomit this time. The stinking mess of my failure hit the floor beside my bed with a squelching splash and I had just a moment to be thankful for the hardwood flooring before the attack coursed through my entire body. Painful fire that arched my back and tore ragged screams from my throat, filled me from head to toes, concentrated beneath my belly button.

Xander burst into my room in his pajamas, hair ruffled, eyepatch missing, and wearing only one sock. "Willow!" he cried, crashing down next to me on the bed, jarring me so my clenched teeth snapped open and then back together painfully. "What's happening?"

I tried to reply, but my jaw was seized shut in agony. I couldn't even scream anymore, which was the worst feeling I'd ever experienced. It reminded me of that time in Sunnydale, when all our voices had been stolen. I felt helpless, betrayed by my own body, unable to think, unable to do magic, unable to hold on. And then my vision went black and all I could feel was a growing maw of emptiness beneath my stomach.

When I could hear again, when I could blink and open my eyes to the bright light of my bedroom, a weak keening noise escaping my throat surprised me. I hadn't been able to scream when I wanted to and now my body was catching up without me. It was all wrong, everything was wrong. Everything was gone.

"Willow!" Xander shook me with a harsh, worried whisper. "Talk to me, Wills. What's going on?"

"I'm," I choked out through a fountain of empty tears, "I'm arse over teakettle, Xand. And there's no more tea."

"Is that supposed to make sense?" he asked me, helping me sit up and brushing some of the tears from my face with his sleeve.

"I … Oh, goddess," I muttered, finally realizing what had happened to me. "It's gone, Xander. My magic!"

"Gone?" he asked. "Oh, that is so not of the good."

"I don't know how this happened!" I said, barely noticing when Xander picked up my room phone and dialed. "I was just sleeping and then, boom!" I cringed. "It's been ripped away. All that's left are holes. A hole for Tara, a hole for Kennedy, and a hole where my damn magic should be."

"Hang on, Willow," Xander said, dropping the phone and wrapping me up in a hug. "We'll figure this out."

As I sat, crying in Xander's arms like I hadn't cried since Tara … went away, I wondered if I even wanted to figure it out. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe someone finally figured out that I never deserved that much power and took it away for my own good. Maybe I should be thanking them, instead of trying to figure out how to get my magic back.

Was it possible I didn't want it?

But then I opened my eyes and nothing looked right. Everything was dull and lifeless in the lamplight and I wondered if it had always looked like this, or if losing that part of me that could do magic had ruined everything for me. What the hell, I was useless now, it was only fair that everything turn unbearably drab and depressing. After everything I'd done, all the people and demons I'd hurt or killed (the vast majority of both categories were populated with demons, thank you very much), I didn't deserve the power I'd had.

I never deserved any of it – Buffy and her mission, Tara, the power to change basic rules of the universe. How could one person deserve all that? She would have to be a saint, and let me tell you, Willow Rosenberg, while an okay lady, was no saint.

"Willow!" a girl's voice called from the main room, "the wards all went down!" When Bethany burst into my room, her braided hair swinging all over the place and her robe just barely concealing a lacy nightgown, she saw Xander holding me and stopped. Wrinkling her nose, she muttered, "But it looks like you already know."

Xander patted my arm, to comfort me, I guess, before standing and leading Beth into the other room. Their voices murmured together for a few minutes, talking about me and then making plans about how to deal with me, I suspected. While they were gone, I found a towel and covered the vomit next to my bed, retching again at the smell of it. I really hoped I wouldn't have to be the one to clean that up. IF there's anything worse than being sick, it's having to deal with the aftermath.

Dazed and alone, I turned to face the mirror attached to my closet door, taking a good hard look at the new me. Funny, besides the green-around-the-gills pallor of my skin, I looked the same. But I was so fundamentally different without my magic. How could I possibly look the same? There had to be something different. A different arrangement of freckles on my arm? A different tint to my eyes? A different color to my hair? A different vein that popped out next to my forehead when I concentrated too hard?

Why was it all the fucking same?

Buffy appeared behind me in the mirror, walking into the room softly in her ballet slipper-like shoes. I wondered if they were trendy this year, or if that style was all Buffy. I'd never thought too much about fashion, besides wearing what I liked, and I wondered if my tastes had changed now that I was different.

Buffy caught my eyes in the reflection and I couldn't help but choke out, "I'm sorry."

"Oh," she sighed, hugging me around the middle and resting her chin on my shoulder, "don't be sorry. What would you possibly be sorry about?"

"Did Xander tell you what happened?" I asked, already knowing the answer by the look in her eyes.

"Yeah," she whispered, hugging me lightly around the middle, but pressing her chin squarely against my shoulder to let me know she was there. "I'm the one who's sorry, Will. I wish I could have done something to stop him."

"You already do too much," I told my friend, turning around to hug her back. "And now that I can't help, you'll be doing even more!" I sobbed again against Buffy's shoulder because I couldn't help it. "I'm the one who's sorry."

"We'll get past this," she assured me, and I started away from her in sudden, inexplicable anger.

"What if I _can't_? What if I'm always going to be this useless? What if I'll have to leave? Without my magic…"

"You're still Willow," Buffy smiled, carefully brushing my hair out of my face. "You're still the super-smart computer whiz I made friends with back in high school. You're still my friend and you'll always have a place here."

"As a teacher," I scoffed. To tell the truth, it didn't sound that bad. But, "To be surrounded all the time with what I used to have? No, I've got to get out of here."

Driven by a sudden, maddening purpose, I pulled my suitcase from the closet and started packing things into it. Let's see, what would I need? Underwear. That was the first thing. Without plenty of clean underwear, you might as well just stop trying, let your hair grow out into dreadlocks, and become a dirty hippy. And I might have been a witch, but my parents didn't raise no hippies.

"Will!" Buffy cried, grabbing my arm as I hastily grabbed whatever I could from my underwear drawer and started stuffing it into the corners of the suitcase. And shoes! I would need a certain variety of shoes! But would I have to decide which outfits I was taking before the shoe decision was finalized? That sounded reasonable to me, so I moved onto the tops and bottoms hanging in my closet.

If I wasn't really a witch anymore, would any of these clothes really work? They didn't exactly scream: Willow – normal citizen of Earth, former sub-deity and a damn fine witch. They said: Willow – current witch and lover of all things given by Mother Earth.

I wondered if I could get something like my vampire alter-ego wore. That had been hot. I could definitely find someone new and exciting with that outfit, especially if I took it to a big city, like London. That was a thought: Willow – expat lesbian Londoner. I could go with that.

"Willow!" Buffy shouted at me again, getting between me and the suitcase so I had to look at her. "Stop packing and listen to me!"

"What, Buffy?" I cried in exasperation. "Why should I stay?"

"Because," she teared up. "Because we don't know yet whether this is permanent or temporary. Because you're my best friend and I need you! Because I'm not ready for you to not be here. We could figure out what's wrong with you tomorrow and have a cure by the end of the week. Please? Just see this through before running away."

"It's not coming back," I muttered, giving in and sitting down on my bed, the rest of my room now a complete disaster zone that Buffy was ignoring. "My magic is gone, ripped away, never to be seen again."

"Give it a chance?" my friend asked, sitting next to me and wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "For me?"

"Only for you, Buff," I sighed, hanging my head in defeat and wondering how long before Buffy got sick of me hanging around, being useless and getting in everyone's way? How long before she got so wrapped up in Angel and Spike and their common mission before she forgot about poor, magic-less Willow? How long before bitter emo Willow made her appearance in the big city? How long would I feel this empty?

* * *

_A/N: It's a little short, but I think I'll call it there for this chapter. Don't forget to leave a review, if you please. Oh, and I'm still looking for a beta reader, if anyone would like to volunteer._

_Thanks for reading._


	6. Going Dark

**Consequence **

Chapter 6 – Going Dark

"Hey, Buff?" Faith called after me as I headed up to my room to get some sleep. I'd only gotten a few hours that morning before Spike and Angel left, and Buffy needed her beauty rest.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to make my voice warmer than it felt. "And why can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"It's already waited a day, Buffy. What with hell comin' down on us last night, I thought it could wait. But it's important."

"Fine," I said, leading her into an office so we could talk. Oh, good. It happened to be my office. Despite how much help Faith had given our operation since Sunnydale, I still found myself annoyed whenever I had to deal with her. "Talk," I said, trying not to make the word too harsh.

"Just got back from Portugal," she said, hefting herself up onto my desk and sitting there, swinging her legs. "Someone else got to the girl before I did."

"Oh, god," I murmured, my stomach sinking at the fact that we'd lost another. Lately it had gotten more and more difficult for Faith and one of Giles' Watcher friends, Ian, to get to the new slayers first. "How old was this one?" I asked, sure I didn't want to know.

"Thirteen," Faith replied, and I decided, yep, I definitely didn't want to know.

"No idea who?"

"Nope," Faith muttered, scraping her nails against the underside of my desk in frustration. "By the time I got there, she'd been taken and nobody, as far as I could tell, knew who did it. It wasn't like the family had any enemies or anything. The authorities think it was a random pervert, the kind of sicko who takes little girls for the hell of it."

"What do you think?" I asked, knowing the story had to be more complicated than that. This wasn't just any girl who got taken, it was a new slayer, just discovered by our coven of seers a few weeks ago.

"I think," Faith snarled, standing and swinging her arms so her fists would crash together in front of her, "that one time would be understandable. But this is the fifth slayer I've had go missing on me, including the one in Russia."

The memories of that day came rushing back to me full force: letting Fred get Angel and me to Faith as fast as possible, wondering why Spike wasn't answering his phone, if he'd been attacked by the same thing that mauled Faith, wondering if soon I'd be the only one who remembered what it was like, being only one of two slayers, who remembered what it was like before. We found the village destroyed, Faith half-dead and the slayer she'd been after nowhere to be found. "We always did wonder," I muttered, "whether her body was in the rubble or not."

"I'm willin' to bet not," Faith muttered. Then, clearing her throat and rubbing one upper arm with the other hand, she asked, "So what do you think, B?"

"I think we have to devote more of our energy into finding these girls before they get taken."

"That gonna work out? I mean, there's only so many of us trained fighters. Might not be worth riskin' one to save another."

"It's worth it," I insisted, catching Faith's eyes so she would have no doubts that I was serious. "They're ours, Faith. I don't know what's taking them, or killing them or whatever, but they're ours. And we have to find them."

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Good luck to us, then."

* * *

Before I could even get into my yummy sushi pajamas, which I'd had to replace after Sunnydale, I got Xander's call that something was wrong with Willow. She'd been stripped of her magic, and there was nothing I could do but hold her.

I couldn't give Willow her magic back, not unless we figured out who had taken it and how. I couldn't protect those brand new slayers from whoever was taking them. I couldn't keep Angel and Spike safe when they were in Cambridge tonight. I couldn't make Angel ready to be with me. I couldn't even explain to myself why I wanted them.

Well, the first part was obvious. But how could I have thought that this was a good idea, when it was so difficult every step of the way? I just couldn't let go of them. Not yet. Not when trying my damndest to make it happen seemed like the most important thing I'd done in a long time.

As soon as I got Willow calmed down, the alarms started blaring again. Unable to decide whether Willow was so fragile that I had to stay with her or if I could shift into action-Buffy mode, I stayed sitting with her for a few minutes after they started. There were other slayers, right? Faith was still around. Couldn't she handle it?

Unfortunately not.

"I gotta go, Wills," I told my friend, growing more and more anxious the longer the alarms kept blaring. "You okay here?"

My redheaded best friend turned toward me, her eyes – wide and frightened like I hadn't seen them in years – meeting mine for a moment. Shit. When had things changed? When had I started letting Willow take care of herself when we got attacked by monsters?

Right around the time she ripped me out of heaven and brought me back.

"I'll drop you off with Xander, okay?" I suggested. "He's always surrounded by slayers. You'll be safe there."

"Okay," she replied, her eyes dipping down in shame.

"C'mon," I said, grabbing a sweater from where she'd thrown it on the floor and helping her shrug it on over her pajamas. Then, I took her hand and led the way from her room, past her and Xander's living room and out into the main hallway of the castle.

Slayers sprinted past us, one skidding to a stop before approaching us. She opened her mouth to say something, but one harsh look told her this wasn't a good time. Smart girl, she just handed me her knife and ran off again. I guess this meant things were bad enough that I should be armed. Huh.

I wondered what it was this time.

In order to get Willow to Xander's Command Room, we had to go down the main steps and into the front hall, which was oddly deserted for how loud the alarms screamed around us. Helping Willow down the stairs carefully, I almost didn't notice the demon sneaking up on us. And I did _not_ scream a little "eep" when I ducked his first attack, no matter what Willow tells you.

Thankful that I'd been given a weapon, I drove the demon – a big, slimy guy with tough gray skin, long sharp teeth, and sharp spikes on his elbows – down the rest of the stairs and onto the level ground of the front hall below. Ducking and dodging his fists and those sharp elbows, I asked him, "Can't you see I was in the middle of something? I mean, _really_? Demons these days…"

He roared a gurgly growl in response, of course. God forbid I fight someone who can actually keep up with the repartee.

I sliced at the demon several times, but his thick hide made my blade glance off uselessly. Growing frustrated, I threw the blade back near Willow's feet, startling her out of some sort of daydream, before taking to the demon with my fists and feet. What I really could have used was one of those cartoon one-ton weights, you know? Just crush this guy and his freaky violence-proof shell.

Then, Willow shrieked and I looked back to see her feebly striking at a vampire with my discarded knife. Well, that wouldn't work. Believe me, you don't want to try beheading a vamp with such a small blade. It's super messy and gross and it takes forever. Luckily, I still had a few tricks up my sleeve – including one of my trusty stakes.

I got the vamp off Willow and staked in a personal best, time-wise, but it meant turning my back on the demon I had been fighting. A searing pain sliced through the sensitive skin at the back of my knee, making my leg collapse and a grunt of protest escape my throat. Catching my balance on my other leg, I twirled to punch out at the demon, vowing to make him pay.

Instead, he whipped around and dug that sharp spike at his elbow back into my ribs. Skin broke, bones shattered, and my lung collapsed. At least that's what it felt like. And I went down, sliding off the demon's built-in weapon and onto the ground. Oh, god! I couldn't breathe. It didn't hurt yet, besides a dull ache, but every sharp, short breath felt more and more like drowning.

And I should know.

Face contorted in tears, Willow fell to her knees beside me, heedless of the demon still looming over us. She pressed the wound with her bare hands, and I knew she was trying to help, trying to keep me from bleeding to death, but it made breathing just that much worse. I wanted to warn her, to tell her to run and get help before the demon killed her, but I couldn't make my voice work. Air, air, everywhere and not a drop to breathe…

Before I blacked out, Dawn dropped down on my other side, tearfully brushing my hair back from my face, and I saw her slayer pick up the knife and throw herself at the demon. I wanted to tell Rita that I'd already tried it, that it wouldn't work, but the girl managed to get around the demon and jump onto its back. Turning my head to the side so I could watch the fight, I smiled when the slayer went for the kill, driving the knife into the softer skin at the demon's neck. The girl plunged the knife in and then pulled it across the demon's throat, just about decapitating it.

I know I never taught her that, and I don't think Spike had either. That move was pure instinct, and somehow it made letting go that much easier. The girls would be okay without me. Xander would be okay.

But what about Angel? And Spike?

* * *

The poof and I got out of his car as soon as the sun was below the horizon. Sunsets in England last so much longer than in California, which makes never getting to see the sun directly easier to deal with. Those last few minutes of indirect light, bouncing around the clouds and bright bloody red, they're something to be grateful for.

"When does the museum close?" I asked Angel, because he always knows these sorts of things.

"An hour," he replied, grabbing my hand as we walked. Usually he's not so into these public displays, but maybe Angel was still feeling unsettled by our conversation. Either that, or it was a tactical move. How's that for you? Not knowing whether your bloody boyfriend _wants_ to hold your hand or is just using you for the moment.

Well, it's a good thing I didn't mind being used.

When we got to the ticket counter, the clerk eyed the way Angel kept his hand with mine and told us we didn't have much time.

"Oh, I know," Angel replied, shooting me a grin. "This is just our first stop of the evening."

Oh, a date was it, then? At least he was the one paying. When Angel needed both hands to operate his wallet, I slipped mine into his back pocket, wishing he was wearing jeans rather than these dress trousers. There was just too much room between my hand and the curve of his arse. Bloody prick didn't even own any jeans. Though there was that pair of leather trousers at the back of his closet he was unaware I knew about. They _really_ belonged to Angelus, but Angel hadn't gotten rid of them, had he? He'd even packed and brought them from LA. Maybe they'd have to find their way to the front of his closet sooner rather than later.

Once we had tickets, Angel looped his arm over my shoulders and didn't complain about my hand in his pocket, which was a bloody miracle. Instead, we just walked into the museum plastered together from hip to chest and I smirked when I felt from him that this was much more about being with me than about putting on a show as cover. In thanks, I curled my fingers against Angel's arse a few times, tickling him as we walked and making him smile.

I absolutely loved making the git smile.

The museum was like all of them, I reckon. Life-sized dioramas of hairy people or people wearing very little clothing, glass cases with various artifacts, the smell of old fabric and preservative chemicals. The exhibits were laid out from most recent to most ancient, so we had to make our way back through almost the entire museum to find what we were looking for. Angel had us strolling by the exhibits quickly, stopping only here and there, making a show of being more interested in me than the rest of the ancient artifacts.

I stopped us at one window – eighteenth century Britain. "Hey look, Ange," I chuckled, pointing to the mannequins in the case, "these could have been yours. Right poncey getup if you ask me."

Angel flicked his eyes across the outfit – shoes, stockings, breeches, shirt, vest, coat – once and then took a closer look. Reading the card beside the dummy, he said, "Uncovered outside Glasgow, Ireland and taken into evidence by the King's guard after a mysterious … massacre … in 1753."

Angel's voice and face had taken on a confused tone and I watched him as he pressed against the glass to get a better look. "What is it, luv?"

"These _are_ mine, hon," Angel replied in sad wonderment. "They were Liam's, in any case. The dress clothes I left at my father's house."

"Really?" I chuckled, getting a better look before playfully pushing him against the case. "What say we put you in with the rest of the relics, hmm?"

My boyfriend shot me an annoyed look before his eyes were drawn back to the clothes, no trace of humor in them. His fingers touched the glass, rubbing against it lightly like he wanted to touch the memories these clothes were bringing back. "That little rip in the corner of the coat … the ale stain on the stockings … that scuff on the shoe from when I kicked the wall of the pub…"

"Let's leave the past where it belongs, peaches," I prodded gently, taking Angel's free hand and pulling to turn him away from the exhibit. "Yeah?" I asked, pulling down so his forehead would meet mine. "Finish what we came here for. Can stare at your Sunday best some other time, luv."

Angel nodded against me, kissing me quickly before taking one last look at the glass case and letting me lead him away. The heavy air around him was killing me, but I didn't quite know how to dissipate it, save finding some quiet corner to snog him senseless. And we didn't have time for that. So I suffered in silence as we walked, breaking it once by scoffing quietly, "Psht. Some date."

Angel nudged my shoulder with his and at first I thought it was in apology, but then he left me behind to approach another case. "There it is," he said softly, peering through the glass. And indeed, it looked just like the picture in Giles' book. The golden bowl was a good size to fit comfortably in my hand, perfectly circular shaped and shallow. Bending down to get a better look, I could see the flared base below the basin, etched with patterns – holy words I was guessing.

"So what's the plan?" I asked Angel as I studied the glass, which was wired to the alarm system, of course.

"We hide until closing," he replied, tracing the display around until he found what he was looking for – a door at the back of the case, obviously leading from some staging area behind the scenes. "And then get in through there."

"Can we maybe … while we're waiting?" I asked hopefully, following Angel away from the artifact.

But, of course he said, "No."

Ange set me as lookout while he busted into one of the doors leading away from the public areas of the museum, pulling me back there with a sharp, "Pst!" and a strong hand on my arm. There was no one around back there, probably because it was so near to closing time and already after normal work hours. In one room, we found tables covered with half unpacked crates and I went to go pick up one of the pieces, wondering if Buffy would like it, but Angel smacked my hand. "Don't touch anything!"

"Not even this?" I asked cheekily, trapping Angel against a wall and cupping his privates in one hand.

"Ugh," he groaned, grabbing my wrist in one crushing hand and flipping us so I was the one pressed against the wall. "_Especially_ not that." But then Angel kissed me harshly, and I smiled at the thought that maybe this was about to get interesting.

Of course, that's when a sizzling boom shook the whole building it felt like, and all the lights went dark. "Bugger."

* * *

_A/N: A little confession. I've never been to Cambridge, much less the Cambridge Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, so I based this chapter on the museums I have been to._

_This chapter was beta read by the always lovely Hortense, so much gratefulness there. :)_

_And as always, I appreciate any and all reviews, comments, or questions you'd like to send my way.  
_


	7. Michael's Aegis

_A/N: Once again, thanks to my beta **Hortense** for reading this chapter over for me._

_

* * *

_**Consequence**

Chapter 7 – Michael's Aegis

Rita and Dawn carried Buffy to the hospital wing and I followed, feeling as helpless as ever. I knew I was useless after losing my magic, but I'd never realized I would be _such_ a liability. Buffy was hurt, maybe dying, and it was my fault.

"Comin' through!" Rita yelled as we breached the doors of the infirmary, them carefully hefting Buffy onto the nearest bed they saw and I following behind ineffectually. "Hey, Dr. Jerry?" Rita bellowed, leaving Buffy's side as Dawn rearranged her.

I had to help, I had to do something, so I approached the bed, intent on putting pressure back on the wound or taking off Buffy's shoes or something. Except, before I got there Dr. Jerry rushed in, pushing me aside carelessly.

"Oh dear," the demon sighed with worry, grabbing supplies from the drawers around Buffy's bed. First, he used a scissors to cut Buffy's shirt up the center – oh, she wouldn't be happy about that – and second he snapped on a pair of gloves and started washing out the wound. Sickly pink water soaked into the big gauze pad he pressed against it. And then, he stuck his finger in there!

Before I could protest, Dr. Jerry rooted around for a moment, freeing more of Buffy's blood into the white cotton gauze and then said, "Looks pretty good for a wound this deep. I'm going to give her some blood and then do some exploratory surgery before I stitch her up, just in case."

"In case what?" Dawn asked, her eyes fixed on Dr. Jerry and her face colored with a mixture of relief and resurgent fear.

"In case there's a bleed in one of her organs. She's healing fast, though, so I'll have to work quickly to make sure she's stable before the skin heals and she bleeds out into her abdomen." He gave Dawn a pointed look, but when she didn't move he sighed, "Fine. You can help by grabbing some blood from the refrigerator and running some lukewarm water over the bag before we hang it. Wouldn't do to give The Slayer hypothermia, now would it?"

Looking up at the other two of us as Dawn scurried away, Dr. Jerry said, "I need room to work, so you can't be here. Wait outside, and I'll have Dawn tell you when anything changes."

"How long?" I managed to croak. "How long do we have to wait?"

Giving me a thoughtful frown, the doctor fixed me with those cat-like pupils of his before replying, "It's going to take me an hour, at least, before I really know what's happening. She appears stable enough."

"C'mon, Willow," Rita said softly, pulling gently on my arm with blood-stained fingers. She gave Dr. Jerry a small familiarity-laced smile and herded me from the room, saying, "Let the doctor work, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed meekly. Where was the Willow who would have poured more magic than anyone else would have _dared_ into healing her friend? Where was the Willow who could keep her friends alive? She'd been taken from me. They'd taken me, and there was nothing left. Nothing left to argue with one young little slayer about how she should let me go and let me back at my best friend's side. Nothing left but push-over Willow from before Buffy came into my life.

But that wasn't true, was it? I hadn't had any magic for the first year or so I helped Buffy. I still had my brain and my hands, didn't I? That had to be good for something, as long as I didn't squander it. Turning to Rita, I asked, "Is there a safe way to the library from here?"

"I'll take you," she decided in a split second. "Last I heard we'd pushed them all the way back to the gate. But you can never be too careful, huh? Especially after what just happened to Buffy!"

"Yeah," I agreed shortly, not really wanting to think anymore about my best friend's injury. I started jogging down the wide hallway and Rita joined me after a few steps. In tandem, we passed the Command Room, which was a flurry of activity behind the swinging double doors as Slayers came and went, missions and battle evident on their minds. I hoped it would be awhile before Xander found out about Buffy, because he had his mind on bigger things right now, especially if she was going to be okay as Dr. Jerry seemed to think.

When we got to the doors of the library, I pulled on them, but they were stubbornly locked. I tugged on them a few more times in frustration before giving up and turning to face Rita.

"You really need to get in there?" she asked me with a quirk to her eyebrow.

"No," I pouted. "I was just hoping to hole myself up inside and learn as much as I could about our enemy."

Shrugging, she replied, "Sounds important to me." Without another word, Rita took the handles of both doors and using one as leverage, pulled the other one open, deftly breaking the deadbolt lock. As the door opened, a crossbow bolt flew over her head, and just past my face, scaring the crap out of both of us.

"Holy fuck, Giles!" Rita yelled into the darkened library. "It's just me and Willow!"

"Oh," the librarian replied, standing up from behind his desk and flipping on one of the lights. "And _language_, Miss Nguyen!"

"Sorry," she sang back, rolling her eyes. Turning to me, she asked, "Want me to guard the door or something? I sort of…"

"You destroyed it, is what you did, young lady," Giles said in his stern-voice, and I got déjà vu back to several instances of the Watcher yelling at Buffy. Oh god, Buffy! Distracting me from my distress, Giles asked, "What's going on here?"

Nodding to Rita so she would leave the room, I took a deep breath as I approached Giles. "Belial, or one of his sorcerers, took my magic. I'm here to find out everything I can about him. Oh," I mentioned, my voice turning sad and regretful without my consent, "and Buffy's in the hospital wing."

"Is she okay?" he asked, setting down his crossbow and heading for the door before I stopped him.

"Probably. But there's nothing we can do for her right now. Dr. Jerry and Dawn are taking care of it."

"So we're…?"

"Trying to figure out how to keep this archdemon at bay until Angel and Spike get back," I insisted, waiting for Giles' sharp nod before I continued. "Maybe figuring out how he took my magic and what we can do to get it back."

"Yes, yes," he stammered, heading for the books still stacked out on the tables in the wide center aisle of the library. "Of course."

"I'll take the computer if you want to take the books," I told him, heading for one of the laptops sitting out on the same table. "I've got some ideas for new search terms."

Giles nodded and we got to work, barely noticing when a few Watcher students joined us. One of them, a girl named Haley, said that the battle was still going on, but it was more of a siege at this point, with neither side gaining much ground. And then, Dawn came in and said that Buffy was fine, but still sleeping it off.

Finally, after hours of reading and searching and clicking, hours of worrying and trying to ignore the rumbling blasts of the siege on our castle, hours of being without half of myself, I found it.

"_Michael's Aegis_," the book read, "_is a holy relic referred to very infrequently across history. Supposedly holding the power to repel the strongest of demonic forces, reliable accounts of this artifact in use are unknown to the author at the time of publication. One myth states that this 'shield' may only be activated by a 'soul with pure intent to protect' and cannot be used as an offensive weapon. It is unclear how or when this artifact's supernatural properties – imbued by the will of the Archangel Michael – affect its demonic targets, but all are clear on one fact: the Aegis, once activated, calibrates to the activator's soul. Both artifact and soul are irrevocably changed until one is destroyed, historically by the death of the wielder."_

"Oh, crap," I whispered before jumping up for the phone on Giles' desk. With any luck, Angel's phone number would be next to the phone with all the other numbers Giles refused to program into a cell phone, since he ever broke down and got one.

There it was, written in Giles' careful printing! I dialed and waited for someone to answer, hoping my warning wouldn't come too late. There was no telling what could happen to a vampire's soul when it was 'changed' by a dangerous and ancient artifact. How could we have been stupid or desperate enough to send them after it? To go after such a powerful weapon when, like ignorant children, we had no idea what it would do?

Why wasn't Angel picking up his phone?

* * *

A commotion coming from somewhere far off in the darkened museum had me abandoning Spike in favor of trying to find my way to the artifact in the near dark. "Come on," I whispered to Spike when he failed to follow me. "Watch my back?"

"Anytime, luv," he replied, catching up and keeping one hand at the base of my back as we moved, so he wouldn't lose me in the dark. My night vision was good enough to see through the pitch darkness somewhat, but it was difficult to distinguish any details. How was I going to find the artifact like this?

As I located the door to the display case, Spike hissed at me, "Someone's here, behind us."

"Got it," I replied, breaking open the door as quietly as I could. "Stay here?"

"Aye," Spike agreed, patting my ass encouragingly as I climbed into the display. There was a strip of chemical luminescence lining the bottom of the display glass, like at the newer movie theaters Spike dragged me to, and I blinked, my eyes watering at the sudden brightness. Though, when my eyes did adjust and I picked my way carefully around the artifacts, I saw it, the small bowl-like object we were looking for.

Through the door behind me I heard the beginnings of a scuffle and my boyfriend cackling as he fought them, probably loving the challenge of a fight in the dark. I hesitated for just a moment, wanting to go back to help defend him, hoping he'd call out if he needed me. But then, a shadow moved on the other side of the glass before a big fist shattered it, hard sharp shards of glass showering in on me and everything else. Without thinking, I dove and snatched up the golden bowl, hoping it wouldn't burn to the touch and that it would help me get to Spike's side sooner rather than later.

A sharp flash of light blinded me as I snapped the blissfully cool metal against my chest. Then, just as I was recovering, it let out a dull but intense _whomp_ of air pressure that rattled my torso, knocking the wind out of me. I didn't need wind to scramble to my feet and adopt a defensive stance, but it was an unpleasant sensation nonetheless.

On the other side of the glass, something let out a bloodcurdling roar of fury and I patted the usual places I carried weapons, looking for something that might help even the odds between me and what promised in the dim yellow-green light to be a huge monster of a demon. It paced back and forth, puffing through its big ox-like nose as it tried to get closer to me. Three or four times, it tried to rush at me, only to be thrown back. Huh.

Then, Spike's groaning bellow of anguish rang in my ears. Oh, fuck! He'd just dusted, hadn't he? I'd let him come with on this trip and I'd gotten him killed. All for this stupid _bowl_. Angry and grief-stricken, I dropped the golden artifact on the way back to where he should have been, no longer caring why we needed it and whether or not the demon at my back would be on me without the artifact in my hand. Unfortunately, as soon as I dropped the bowl, I felt like all my will to keep moving forward, to go to Spike, had been drained and my legs collapsed. The wind got knocked out of me again and I couldn't even growl my frustration as painful pins and needles coursed through my body.

Fucking magic.

Scrambling around in the darkness beside my glass-ground knees, my shaking fingers clutched at the bowl, relieving the pain and letting me draw a deep breath. At the same time I heard Spike whisper, "Bloody hell," just ahead of me, and there he was, pulling himself into the case, his hair glowing in the dim light as he collapsed down onto his back halfway in and halfway out of the little space. Overjoyed that he was still alive, I picked up the artifact and stumbled over to him, feeling and smelling and just barely seeing when I got close enough to touch his prone body on the floor.

"Agh," he complained, shoving at my fingers with his, "get your soddin' hand outta my face, Ange!"

Slipping my hand down to grab his upper arm, I pulled him up to sitting beside and facing me, asking, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Visions," he grimaced as I hugged him close with my artifact-free hand, burying my nose in his neck to convince myself he was actually here. His arms came up around my back as he confessed, "Three or four of them at once. Migraine's ten times as bad."

"What did you see?" I asked in a whisper, watching the ox-nosed demon pace on the other side of the glass, just waiting for me to drop this thing again. Behind me, a few bodies lay just outside the door, where Spike must have killed them and from beyond two or three more demons growled at us – unable to get any closer.

Before my boyfriend could answer, a booming voice thundered through the museum, rattling the display case and the shards of glass and priceless artifacts all around me. "Congratulations," it said, its tone dark, angry, and foreboding. "You are the first to have activated that thorn in my side in fifteen centuries. Unfortunately, it won't save your woman."

Shouting beside my ear, his voice rough with grief, Spike insisted, "It's not true, you fucking tosser! Get outta my head!"

We both waited for an answer, but none came. The demons on either side of us melted away into the darkness, hooves clomping away into nothing. Suddenly, my phone rumbled in my pocket, but I ignored it, startled back into noticing the vampire in my arms. Wiping Spike's tears away, I asked him again, "What did you see, precious?"

"The battle," he choked, "from t'other day, luv. Fighting those demons, all the magic in the air. Then, another battle, just the slayers. Buff–" he growled in my ear. "It's a lie. She's not fighting for her life with a hole in her gut. It's a fucking lie!"

"Shit," I whispered, reaching for my phone and finding it difficult to negotiate with my hands full of the artifact and Spike. I tried to set the bowl down on the ground again, wincing when my fingers left its surface for a brief moment and prickly pain shuddered through my body again. "Damn it."

"What?" he asked, as I shuffled away from him, switching the artifact into my other hand so I could dig my phone out of my pocket. When I opened it, the light from the screen blinded both of us for a short moment before our eyes met.

Noticing that the last caller was Giles, I pressed the button Spike had taught me would call him back, since it seemed the easiest option.

"Hello?" a woman's voice answered, and I thought it was probably Willow. "Angel?"

"Yeah," I replied. I started to ask about Buffy, "Is–"

Willow cut me off, yelling in my ear, "Don't activate the Aegis!"

Looking down at the golden bowl in my hand, sure that this was what she referred to, I sighed and replied, "Too late."

"Oh," she muttered sharply, her voice uncharacteristically disappointed. This was going to be bad.

"What's wrong, Willow? And how is Buffy? Spike seems to think –"

Cutting me off again, she replied, "Buffy should be fine. It's the Aegis –"

"_Should _be?" I interrupted her this time, my throat clenched painfully as I forgot about the item occupying my hand and asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, god, Angel!" she whispered. "I'm so sorry! She was protecting me from this demon and it stabbed her! I couldn't even protect myself," she sniffed, obviously crying at this point, and I wondered what the hell had happened since we'd left. "But … but Dr. Jerry says she's resting and recuperating now."

"That's," I said, meeting Spike's eyes in the almost darkness and nodding encouragingly, "good, I suppose. You got attacked again?"

"It's a siege," Willow told me, her voice thick with tears as she sniffed. "The others are holding them back for now. I can't…" She stopped speaking for a moment before taking a different tack, "What happened when you activated the artifact?"

I relayed my version of events, including the disembodied voice that had mocked us with the news of Buffy's injury. Spike's face went through an interesting series of expressions as I spoke, and eventually he stood, helping me up as I spoke and leading me back through the museum.

"And now you can't let go of it?" Willow asked.

"Not without serious consequences," I replied, blinking as Spike and I left the building via a deactivated emergency exit, making our way through the lamp-lit alley and around the museum to where our car was parked. With both hands occupied, I failed to prevent Spike from snatching the car keys from my pants pocket. I started to argue with him, but my boyfriend just gave me a stern eyebrow and a glance to the bowl in my hand. I nodded my assent and let him take the driver's seat, asking Willow, "Is this what you were trying to warn me against?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "But I'm glad it works against some demons, in any case. You'll head back now?"

"Uh-huh," I agreed, watching as Spike leaned over and opened the passenger door, stretching across me again after I got in to close it.

"Be super-careful-guy, okay?" she insisted. "There are demons and sorcerers all over the place and I can't stop this anymore. You'll see why."

Worried about the ominous tone in her voice but feeling the conversation draw to a close, I replied, "Okay," and hung up, watching Spike's face as he pulled out of the parking space and accelerated my beautiful car recklessly out onto the street. It was dark and there were hardly any cars around, but his driving had me gasping in horror every time we got too close to the curb or passed a parked car or took a sharp, sharp turn.

"It wasn't a lie?" he asked after a few moments, biting his nail and looking over at me as I pointedly buckled my seatbelt.

"No, but she's fine," I told him, focusing my attention on the strange bowl – the _Aegis_, Willow called it – in my hands. For something so devastating when I dropped it, it wasn't very big, its diameter about the same size as my palm. The gold was polished, but dented in quite a few places, destroying the perfectly smooth surface it obviously used to have. It was shallow, and fitted with a short flared stand on the outer side. This appeared to have been added later, since it was made out of something silvery and was fitted with polished red and white triangular stones. I wondered what would happen if I tried to pull that extra bit off, but I didn't want to ruin the Aegis before we even returned to the castle.

Willow hadn't offered me any explanations for why I couldn't part from the artifact, and I hadn't asked, too preoccupied with what had happened to Buffy and then with answering Willow's questions. It was just one of those things that happened in our world, right? There's no way this could be permanent.

* * *

_What did you think? Just two more chapters to go, I believe, so I'll try not to leave you in suspense for too long :)_

_Thanks for reading!  
_


	8. Hubris

**Consequence**

Chapter 8 – Hubris

When I woke up in the infirmary, it took me a few moments to figure out where I was and how I'd gotten there. Oh, right. Stabbed by a demon and saved by one of the upstart little slayers. At twenty three years old, I felt extremely over the hill. My time had come and gone. It had probably gone when I died the second time and here I was holding onto something that didn't exist anymore.

In that moment I lost the fight I hadn't felt any slower or any weaker than before the demon got me. I felt the same powerful slayer blood in my veins, in my clenched fists, in the joyous way I took air into my lungs. I just made a mistake. I made a mistake and it could have killed me.

I'd made mistakes before, to be sure. I'd been stabbed and bruised and broken before. But this mistake didn't seem to cost as much as the last ones had. The big difference was: when I passed out? I was okay with going. I wasn't scared for my friends or my sister. They had hundreds, maybe thousands of top-notch slayers to protect them. They didn't need me anymore. Not old-timer Buffy, with one foot in the grave every minute of every day.

They didn't need me, but what about the vampires? That was the last niggling little thought as I passed out. What about them? They should have been alright without me. They had each other. But I _knew_ how devastated they would have been if I died. It was something I felt in my bones and my _teeth_ whenever I caught either of them looking at me. Like I was the answer to everything. It was stupid. I didn't have any answers. In fact, I had a lot more questions than answers. All I knew was that they loved me and I loved them. I loved them separately to be sure, but I loved them even more together. And if I was somehow the answer to whatever was going on between them, I had to be there. I had to live just a little longer.

I was just for now. Just for a week or a year or ten years. Angel and Spike were _forever_ and I simply wasn't. As a schoolgirl, I'd written "Angel and Buffy forever" over and over again in my class notes, but that sentiment was impossible. It couldn't happen while I was mortal and he and Spike weren't. And there was no way I'd willingly become immortal. Not when I knew what was waiting for me on the other side. Not with being able to look forward to the relief of knowing I was whole and done.

If Angel and Spike needed me now, near the beginning, to prove they were forever, to prove that I'd always been mortal and temporary and they were what mattered, I had to stay alive. I couldn't leave them with might-have-beens and lingering regrets. I was _always_ going to be there, between them, unless I saw this thing through.

And of course, there were some really excellent side perks to the whole deal.

We were close. I could feel it. I could taste it every time Angel kissed me. I could hear it every time Spike said my name. I could see the pieces falling together, and since I was one of those pieces, I had to be here when they got back. I had a part to play before the curtain call, and damn it, I was going to play that part.

Taking a deep breath, I could feel how sore my lung was, but at least it was functional again. And then, when I tried to sit up in my inclined hospital bed, the pain in my side made me gasp and grit my teeth. But I wasn't bleeding anymore. That was a good sign. And hey, under the bandage on my side, there were only a few ugly black stitches. Why can't they ever use a nicer color? This one always made me feel like Frankenstein. Or, Frankenstein's monster, I guess.

Thinking of monsters, I wondered how the battle was going. Since the infirmary was pretty buried in the middle of the castle, I couldn't hear anything but the gentle beep of my heart monitor and another girl a few beds over. I couldn't tell who she was, since the curtains were drawn around her, but she was whimpering in pain. The doctor soothed her in a low voice, saying, "It's alright, Kelly. Your leg will be good as new in a few days when we take the cast off."

"Is it always going to hurt like this?" she asked, her voice small and sounding so young. She was just a kid, probably even younger than when I had first been called.

"No, of course not," Dr. Jerry replied with a reassuring chuckle. "You'll be better than new before you know it. Now let me get you something for the pain."

I don't know exactly why I did it, but as the doctor passed my bed, rummaged around in a locked cabinet, and then returned to Kelly, I pretended to be asleep. I guess I didn't want him using that reassuring chuckle on me. And even though this was an infirmary, it felt enough like a hospital to make my skin itch uncomfortably. I hate hospitals.

I had to get out of there. I had to find out what was going on, how the battle was progressing, and when I could expect Spike and Angel back. I had to stay alive for them, but that didn't mean I had to sit around twiddling my thumbs. I had to ... find some clothes! This hospital gown was definitely a no-go, fashion-wise.

I was in the infirmary, and my office wasn't too far away. It had a few changes of clothes, because frequent need to freshen up comes with the slayer territory and it sat between the infirmary and the Command Room where Xander and Willow were sure to be.

Oh, Willow! I'd forgotten that her magic was gone. She'd looked so helpless beside me as I blacked out, and I hated seeing her like that, because it wasn't true. Even without magic, Willow was one of the least helpless people I knew. She was scared and I'd stupidly gotten myself hurt.

What kind of best friend was I? Making such a big mistake when Willow needed her best friend more than a slayer was nearly unforgiveable, at least as far as I was concerned.

So, making sure I knew where Jerry was, I turned off my heart monitor, pulled off all the sticky disk thingies that went along with it, and snuck into the hallway. Out there, I could hear fighting in the distance. But there was no one in the hallway.

As fast as I could hobble with a stitch in my side (Ha! Get it?), I ran for my office, ducking in and locking the door behind me. Almost ten minutes later, after struggling with my clothes and wondering why all the most flattering outfits were the most difficult to get into and out of, I was dressed and had a crossbow in my hands.

When I got to the front gate after sneaking past Xander's hall-o-monitors, I knew I was right to come. My girls were losing. Leaning over and grabbing one of the injured, but still coherent soldier-slayers who seemed to be sitting on the sidelines for now, I asked her, "What's the sitch?"

"General Summers!" she cried. I really don't know why or when they started calling me that, but I've noticed that Xander never corrects them. It sounded like one of his ideas. "We've lost magical support and we're having a hell of a time holding the perimeter without them."

"What happened?"

The girl shrugged, squinting her dark eyes as she looked up past me and into the early morning sunlight. "You heard what happened to Rosenberg?"

"Yeah," I nodded grimly, crouching further down to get a better look at her face as she replied.

The young woman continued, "Same thing happened to the rest of 'em. The sorcerers have been breathing down our necks ever since. We've got a few of the Watcher recruits who can do some magic stuff, but it's not enough."

"Don't worry," I told her, even though I wasn't sure of the sentiment. "Help is coming."

Help _was_ coming, right? Last I'd talked to the boys, they were waiting for night to fall so they could grab the artifact. Half of me wanted to know when they'd be back and the other half of me wanted to trust that Angel and Spike would get the job done, no matter what, and my energies would be better spent helping out with this mess of a battle.

My side and lung were still sore, and it was difficult to move very quickly, but I could shoot. If I could get myself up onto the roof of the garage, I could lay out up there and take down demons, vamps, and sorcerers one by one. And when they found me? I would just let gravity do most of the work getting me down and out of harm's way.

Patting the slayer once more on the back and giving her a reassuring nod, I readjusted the straps holding my crossbow to my back and loped toward the garage as best I could. The courtyard was a mess of support for the battle raging at the gate and over the walls, filled with students and Watchers replacing weapons, tending the wounded, and feeding the exhausted.

Where were those guys?

Before I could make it all the way to the garage, something near the gate exploded and the battle pushed inward. Girls screamed and I thought I saw some of the unconscious ones grabbed by a few smaller, pink-skinned demons before the rest of the soldiers could retrieve them. It was up to me, then.

"Buffy!" someone cried at my arm, tugging at me as I raised my crossbow. It was Dawn, looking down at me with big and angry eyes. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"My job," I said curtly, aiming and firing for one of the kidnappers. I missed, but got one of his big, hairy compatriots in the side, distracting and pissing him off long enough that one of the girls who were still up could kill him. "Those are my people, Dawn," I told my sister, struggling forward a few steps and firing again.

"You're going to lose more of your people if you don't help everyone fall back. We have to get inside. Faith already gave the order."

"Since when," I asked, grimacing as one of the slayers bumped me as she ran past, helping one of her friends up before they both headed for the castle, "does _Faith_ give the battle orders?" I took one more shot before looking around to see that Dawn was right. We were retreating. We were leaving girls to be swept away by those little pink demons. It was _not_ acceptable.

"Since Spike is away and you're supposed to be half-dead in the hospital, Buffy!" Dawn cried in exasperation, leaving me to help another of the wounded up and out of harm's way. More and more injured slayers brushed past me as the line of battle moved backward, toward the castle. The outer walls were crawling with all sorts of demons and magic crackled through the morning air. Our first line of defense was well and truly breached.

Damn it, we did have to retreat. Faith was right, but that didn't mean_ I_ had to retreat. Not quite yet. Not when I could still stand and I could still shoot and I could still fight. I would do my best to stay alive for the people who cared about me, but I couldn't just stand by and let these bastards come into _my_ home and take _my_ girls. That's not the Buffy Summers we all know and love.

* * *

I drove back to Scotland like the fires of Hell were lapping at the tires of Angel's pretty car – quickly and recklessly – which had Angel grimacing and muttering things like, "Watch that god damn Volvo!" and "Fucking stole my keys!" I didn't respond because I knew it was pointless. Sometimes he has problems realizing that I can be right on occasion. For fuck's sake, he couldn't drive with whatever was going on with the Aegis, as he called it. Not if we wanted to get back to Buffy before that fucking archdemon could finish her off.

Besides, Ange seemed stuck to that soddin' artifact and I had very real issues with what that might mean for _my _sex life. So, I might have been taking it out on his bloody car.

As I drove on and on, I felt out of my mind, having half-seen the chaos that was going on at home, but not knowing anything for sure. Angel said that Buffy was okay and it didn't feel like he was lying, but knowing that she was injured in the first place had me gritting my teeth and wanting to kill something. I tried to call the castle once, but Angel snatched the phone away, saying that if he couldn't drive one-handed, I didn't get to either, the sodding ponce. It wouldn't have made a difference in any case, because no one there was answering and when Angel called the bloody pirate, Xander just told him to get there soon and hung up.

Somewhere around dawn, I asked Angel, "What if she dies?"

"She won't," he insisted, petting the back of my head with his free hand. He sounded sure, but he looked almost as scared as I felt. She had to be okay, she just _had_ to.

I wanted him to let his hand drop a few inches and grab at the back of my neck, but that wouldn't have been wise. Something about Ange being my elder, my grandsire, gave him this power over me. When he would grab the back of my neck, I couldn't help but let my entire body go slack. It was nice for feeling safe, for feeling like Angel was stronger than me and could take care of me. Like he'd make everything alright, even if he couldn't bloody drive because he was stuck to some bloody _thing_ and I fucking _loved_ the way he used both hands in bed and, "Sod all!" I growled in frustration.

"We're almost there," Angel whispered a few minutes of silence later. "We should slow down so we don't come up on a battle we can't handle."

"Fuck that," I replied and stepped on the accelerator as much as I dared, winding up the road toward the town that lay just a few miles below the castle.

Angel cried, "Spike!" in an angry growl after a particularly harrowing curve and I reminded myself that if we were going to make sure Buffy was okay, we had to get there generally intact, yeah? So I slowed down a little, but not so much that Angel stopped grimacing and cursing at me.

As we got closer and the smoke of several fires rose up above the tree line and demons stepped out of the woods at our passing, I asked Angel, "Now here's a question, luv – how do we get this bloody car through a siege and into the garage so we don't get burned into little crispies by the daylight?"

"Shit," Angel muttered before pointing and ordering me to, "Turn off here. We'll drive up as close as we can to the back entrance."

"There's a back entrance to the castle?" I asked in surprised incredulity. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"We're trying to keep it a secret and there were all those information leaks over the summer. I didn't think you needed to know."

"You're a ponce," I spat at him, taking the turn as fast as I dared and piloting the car down a rough dirt road. Angel's car might have been fast and it might have been fucking fantastic aesthetically, but it couldn't off-road for shit.

I drove further and further into the woods and around the cliff on which the castle sat. After a few minutes, Angel called Xander again and barked at the boy before he could hang up, "Open the back door, Xander. Spike and I are almost there. ... No, we can't! It's midday," he pointed out, his tone all but spelling out how imbecilic Harris was. I approved.

As I drove and Angel talked Harris into sending someone to let us in, I began to doubt Angel knew where the hell we were going. The road narrowed as we approached the lake behind the castle and then the trees ended and all that was left was a tiny track between the rock wall and the rest of the cliff leading down into the water.

Angel hung up and pointed ahead, telling me, "If we can just get to that patch of shade, we can get inside from there." Eyeing how the road narrowed, he continued, "There's still those couple of blankets in the back. We could run from here."

"We could," I nodded, slowing the car to a stop. I'd got pretty good at darting into the shadows when I was in Sunnydale and I hoped Angel could keep up. It definitely wouldn't do to lose him like this.

I'd just decided to try inching up the road in order to get us closer to our shady goal when something hit the back of our car with a loud whoomp on the sheet metal. "Bloody hell," I cried, catching a glimpse of a demon in the rear view. It was different from the beastie-looking ones I'd fought at the gates and at the museum. This one was more scales and slime than hair and horns. I hate the slimy blighters. Always muck up my jacket.

The wanker hit our car again and I knew we couldn't get out and fight him, so I threw the car into reverse and hit the pedal.

"Agh!" Angel cried as we lurched backward. "What are you doing?"

"Runnin' 'im over," I replied, though I reckoned my actions had been fairly self-explanatory. After we'd gone completely over the demon and I could see him out in front of the bonnet, I put the car into drive yet again.

"Don't you dare," Angel growled, grabbing my arm painfully. "Don't you fucking dare!"

"But look!" I cried, pointing out the windscreen. "He's getting up. If I don't finish him off, he'll break a window or somethin' and we'll be dust."

"You'll drive us into the water, Spike!" he argued, refusing to let me go.

"I will if you keep tugging at me you no-faith, fat-headed excuse for a demon!" I shot back, jerking my arm from his grasp and stepping on the accelerator.

"No!" Angel shouted, but then we hit the demon, green blood splashing all over the bonnet of my boyfriend's car. Everything was going to plan until I stepped on the breaks and the tires skidded in the dusty dirt of the road. When the front passenger tire dropped from the roadway, my stomach dropped as well. I met Angel's eyes and knew in that split second that he was going to kill me, partners for eternity or not.

And then the tire on my side of the car dropped and we balanced there for a moment facing down into the cold dark water below. Just when I was about to sigh in relief and think of a plan for getting us back on solid ground, the balance tipped and we fell end over end about fifteen feet down into the water. The car landed on its roof and I fell out of my seat, bashing my face against the ceiling and swearing, "Bollocks!"

Angel was still buckled in, hanging upside down as we sank into the water and glaring at me something fierce. Water seeped in from somewhere and the git beside me struggled out of his seatbelt, hit the ceiling and turned over to crouch beside me. Before the icy-cold water filled up the air space, Angel grabbed me by my jacket lapels, tugged me so we were nose to nose and snarled, "I fucking told you so, you god damn moron! I'll never forgive you for this."

"Never is a long time, Ang-" I said, my last syllable cut off as a bubble in the rising water. In the last of the light, Angel glared at me and crawled toward the back seats, returning with a pair of heavy felt blankets. He shoved one at me before wrenching and kicking a door open so we could escape. I reckon the ordeal would have been much more traumatic when I was alive, as my biggest fear at that moment was not whether or not I would survive, it was what Angel would do to me – or more likely not do to me – in punishment for sinking his car.

Head hanging and tail between my legs, I followed Angel along the bottom of the lake, half-walking and half-swimming parallel to the cliff. As we moved away from the car and the murky water got shallower, I could see that Angel still had that bloody artifact clutched in one hand, the blanket tugged along through the water with the other. Which left no hand for me to clasp in silent apology. Bloody bastard.

And it wasn't even completely my fault. If Angel would let me drive on occasion, I would have known how much damn fucking room his car needed to stop properly. He'd never forgive me, he said, the overdramatic wanker. But it was just a bloody car. A few days and he'd be wrapped around my little finger again, wouldn't he? I hoped so. Even if it might require lots and lots of self sacrifice in the bedroom on my part.

We pulled ourselves out of the water carefully onto a ragged path that led up to the roadway, draping the blankets just so and charging for the bit of shade near the castle entrance. It was maybe five feet up the cliff side, a metal trap door, camouflaged by rocks probably cut from the cliff themselves. Only a few too-straight lines around the door gave away that the door was there. That and the slayers bent down out of it, encouraging us onward. Once there, I looked back to see more of those slimy demons trotting up the road towards us.

"That stunt of yours," Angel nodded towards the demons as he pushed me up into the waiting arms of two slayers, "brought more of them. This is why I didn't tell you about this secret entrance. Now that you _know_, it's not a secret anymore." He scrambled up behind me, pulled up by the same two slayers, and closed the heavy metal door, setting a locking bar in place.

"Oh come on!" I cried back, shuffling hunched over after another slayer as she led us down the short, rough hewn tunnel in the rock. "It was your idea to use the bloody 'secret entrance'. Anyone comin' around back here could've shown them the way in. Gimme a little credit, you unimaginable tosser."

"After you sunk my car?" he screeched, except that Angel's too broody to screech properly, so it was more of a strangled cough. "My _car_, Spike! The one thing I bought for _me_, that had nothing to do with you, and you _wrecked_ it."

"You'll just go and buy another, yeah?" I pointed out.

"That's not the fucking point!" he roared as we climbed up a sharp, slippery incline and through another door in the kitchen cellar.

Before I could open my mouth to ask him what bloody point he was trying to make, because there seemed to be at least two or three of them, Dawn skidded to a stop in front of us.

"Oh good!" she cried with a strained but wide smile. "You guys made it all uncrispy. Soggy, even," she frowned, pushing some of my wet hair away from my eyes.

"Not my fault," I insisted, almost laughing when Angel made a strangled cry of protest that sounded like a cat choking on a chicken bone.

"Don't care," Dawn said, turning on her heel and jogging forward with an air that said we were to follow. As we took the spiraling staircase up into the kitchen, she called back, "Willow wants to see you right away, Angel. She's all freaking out about that thing. You still have it, right?"

"Yes," he called from behind me, exasperation evident in the harsh, sighing tone of his voice. Or maybe he was just tired, I couldn't really tell under all the layers and layers of anger and annoyance he was sending my way as he followed close behind me.

"And, Spike?" Dawn asked. "I need your help with Buffy."

"What's happened?" I asked, sharing a worried glance with Angel. "Is she alright?"

Dawn caught my eye and then Angel's as we stood at the door to Xander's Command Room. "She's too damn heroic for her own good."

* * *

_A/N: Again, beta-read by the ever fantastic Hortense ;)_

_Also, don't forget to review. I'm really proud of this chapter and I'd like to know if it's coming across as I thought it would. Thanks!  
_


	9. We were Willow

**Consequence **

Chapter 9 – We were Willow

"What do you mean, Nibblet?" Spike asked as he and Dawn left me, heading for the battle I could hear up ahead. Before Dawn could answer, Spike looked back and caught my eye, asking a silent question. Did I hate him? Were we okay?

I didn't hate him. I was _fucking pissed_, but I didn't hate him. I couldn't. I was incapable. So I waved Spike onward, hoping he'd get the message that we'd deal with our shit later. A wave of relief rolled off him in a quick pulse he probably didn't even know I'd felt. That was alright. I had different business to attend to at the moment.

Pushing open the door, I realized that even though I knew things were bad, that the castle was under attack, I wasn't prepared for the chaos of people roiling on the other side of those doors. Most of them were injured in some way, sitting with their limbs bandaged or with blood seeping from shallow wounds on heads and faces and arms as they shouted out orders over headsets. Xander was in the middle of the mess, his barking orders the loudest voice in the room. One of his monitors was missing from its place on the wall and I wondered where it went, until I saw it on the ground in a puddle of its own broken shards, no one having bothered to clean it up yet. There was another five hundred bucks we'd have to find in the budget somewhere.

Suddenly someone shouted, "You!" and grabbed my arm, pulling me through the room. Looking down I realized that it was Andrew, his face stuck in an odd grimace as he limped along. He was favoring his right ankle, which I very much doubted he'd injured in battle. More likely than not, he'd fallen or been pushed aside and had twisted it in his clumsiness. And Buffy wondered why I complained about keeping him around. "You are just the guy Willow wants to see, Angel."

"So I heard," I replied, snapping my arm out of Andrew's grasp and passing him on my way through the room and to Willow's 'office'. The door was closed and as soon as I'd opened it, I wished I would have knocked and been spared the surprised and hopeless expressions on all those faces. I recognized them all as Willow's fellow witches and warlocks, or were they called wizards now? Sorcerers? Like it fucking mattered…

"Sorry," I apologized in a whisper as I entered the room, closing the door behind me. Someone ran into the door with a loud thump and a few seconds later, Andrew came into the room, shooting me a dirty look. Is it my fault that he's so forgettable? I _did_ have other things on my mind.

From the back of the room, Willow stood up from a couch, setting a book down on the table in front of her and giving me a hopeful, almost apologetic, smile. "Angel!"

We met in the center of the room, Willow asking, "Where is it? Is that it?" She pointed to the Aegis in my hand and when I raised it up, she took it from me before I knew what was going on.

"Wait…" I started to say, but then I noticed a significant lack of pain and no loss of limb-control. I didn't grit my teeth in pain and cry out, consumed by fiery pins and needles. I felt decidedly _uncomfortable_, but it was tolerable for a few moments, at least.

Willow took a sharp, deep breath before she looked up at me, her eyes pitch-black with power. "Whoa!" Turning to the rest of the room, she cried, "I have my magic back! It's back, you guys!"

What? Willow had been missing her magic? Is that what she meant when I spoke to her on the phone?

Before I could protest, Willow passed the Aegis to a dark-skinned girl whose name I _thought_ might have been Bethany. She too, took a deep breath, the whites of her eyes disappearing into a black sheen.

"Can I…" I asked carefully when Willow grinned back at me, her eyes still otherworldly. "Can I have that back? Please?" I'd only seen her like this a few times since we took on the Senior Partners, and each instance was scarier than the last. I knew that Buffy trusted and depended on her and I trusted her too, but that didn't ease my mind when it came to being in the same room with such power. With the power that had almost killed my son. "I _need_ that back."

"Yeah, of course," Willow nodded, levitating the Aegis back into my hands and watching my expression. As soon as it was secure in my grip, I breathed a sigh of relief, the creeping discomfort bleeding further away from pain. Willow furrowed her brow and asked, "Possessive much?"

"I'm having a hard time letting go," I told her. "Literally."

"What happens when you let go?"

I described what had been going on quickly, to which Willow said, "That's what the book must have meant by soul-changing…"

"What?" I cried, suddenly much more concerned than I had been. I looked down at the artifact in my hand, wondering if I really _was _different than I used to be. And my soul was precarious on a _good_ day. "What book?"

Instead of answering me, the witch summoned a book from across the room, caught it, and laid two fingers on the Aegis, carefully not taking it from me again. Was that the book that said I might be different than I used to be? She intoned a few words, pronouncing them carefully as she read from the book. I thought it might have been Persian, but I wasn't sure. On her last word, a wave of power struck out from the Aegis, eerily similar to when I accidentally activated it, blowing through the room and making everyone in it stumble a little.

And then the room took a deep breath as one, except Willow, Bethany and me. More than one pair of eyes went black and the rest of the magicians stood in awe or smiled at each other. Andrew grinned widely, clapping me on the back in his excitement.

"What did you do?" I asked Willow, wincing when she turned those unsettling eyes on me.

Willow shrugged, a surprisingly human gesture for how inhuman she looked. "Increased the Aegis' sphere of influence." With only a gesture indicating that I was to follow, Willow left the room.

What the hell was going on? I wanted to stop Willow, to grab her arm and turn her around and ask her about this "soul-changing" business, but as soon as I got out into the command room, Xander drew my attention by crying, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fu-" When he saw me watching, the boy changed his word to, "Fudge! Angel, man, we could really use your help. The back entrance was just breached and we can't spare anyone from the battle at the gate!"

Ignoring Andrew's muttered, "That's what she said..." I asked Xander, "Got a weapon?"

Checking around his feet, Xander spotted a sword and picked it up, tossing it deftly for someone with no depth perception. "Thanks," I told him, catching the sword and stowing the Aegis in my pocket. That would have to do for now, uncomfortable or not. "I'm on it."

* * *

The battle raged on outside the castle, breaching the outer walls and pushing everyone back inside, and I couldn't do a thing about it. My people and I sat in my lounge reading and researching anything and everything having to do with archdemons and what kinds of things they could do. We knew that Belial could take our magic. He could convince lesser demons to work for him. According to the literature, he could influence people other ways, make them forget things, change their personalities, convince them to work for him.

He was outside the castle now, I knew it. There was something heavy in the air. I might not have had my magic anymore, but I could feel that. Would it eventually start influencing our slayers? Could Belial turn them against each other? Could he turn me against them? Could he break me and then give me back the power to get him back home? Was that his plan, or was it just revenge?

Was taking my magic supposed to be a punishment worse than death? Could Belial even understand what a double-edged sword my powers were to me? Did he realize that even though I felt sickeningly helpless, I also felt relieved? Great big, lung-expanding, shoulder-relaxing relief?

I'd asked Xander more than once what I could do to help with the battle. I mean, I could relay orders over the headsets or treat the wounded or something. But he said, "Thanks, but no thanks, Will. We've got a system. Remind me to brief your people on the system once this is all over."

"We could learn it now…" I suggested, but Xand just shook his head, most of his attention on the variety of monitors up on the wall.

"Just keep researching. Figure out if these demons have any weaknesses that could help us. Figure out how we're supposed to use this Aegis thing Angel's bringing."

"When is he getting back?" I asked, anxious for any change in the siege that I could see was slowly wearing us down.

"Soon," he insisted, cringing as two slayers collided near his monitors and one was knocked into them. One flat screen came crashing down, shattering on the stone floor between the wall and Xander's platform. "Hey, Lucy! Ethel! Great going!" he cried.

One of the girls turned and yelled back, "My name's Opal!"

"Forget it," Xander sighed waving both girls away. "Just go back to whatever you were doing." Turning to me, he said, "You can see I've got my hands full here…"

"Fine," I nodded, going back to my lounge and muttering, "Some system…" as I closed the door.

"Will," one of the warlocks called, standing up and bringing me a book.

"What is it, Pete?"

Shoving the book under my nose, he said, "I found the spell to extend the Aegis' protection. It was here in Farvardin's Compendium."

My heart sped up and I held my breath as I read the page he pointed to, finally deciding, "This is perfect. Exactly what we need. Thanks, Pete."

I took the book with me, muddling through the Persian as I read the rest of the chapter. The Aegis had been used before to protect a sanctuary of clergy people. After the old guardian died, a new monk was chosen to be bound to the Aegis. The spell was performed anew and their protection was restored. There was something in there about keeping something of Belial's there so he couldn't use it. Then, during one changing of the guard, Belial's army raided after waiting ten long years for the guardian to die. He won, they lost, and a single monk was left to tell the tale.

Was it fate that we'd sent an immortal to retrieve the Aegis? Was someone else guiding our hands, or were we muddling around blindly? The Powers that Be had a line into Angel's life through Spike's visions. Would they mind that we'd accidentally co-opted him? Or was that the plan all along?

I know Buffy and Angel are all about fate and destiny, but if there really were such things, why had Tara been taken from me? Was it to spare her from my inevitable self-destruction? Was it to punish me for what I had yet to do? Or was I just being all egotistical?

Then, when I heard the door open and the chaos of the Command Room beyond, I looked up, expecting that Xander had finally gotten desperate enough to ask for our non-magical help. But it wasn't Xander. It was Angel, and he held a small, shallow golden bowl tightly in one hand at his side. He appeared startled when everyone in the room looked up at him, mumbling a soft apology and closing the door behind him.

Silence settled back over the room for just a breath before someone thumped the door loudly. Andrew came into the room then, shooting an angry sneer at Angel, who just ignored the guy. Poor Andrew. No one around the castle really appreciated him, except maybe Xander. I tried to be nice to him, since he'd been through the Hellmouth with us, but sometimes he was annoying enough to make it a difficult proposition. But he was in this too. Belial had stolen his magic last, preventing him from doing what he'd been practicing all summer and turning one of the demons against his fellows.

Realizing that everyone was waiting for me to speak, I stood and greeted the vampire, "Angel!" before meeting him. Catching another glimpse of the golden object in his hand, I asked, "Where is it? Is that it?"

As soon as I touched the Aegis, plucking it out of Angel's hands despite his weak protest, power flooded back into me, filling my blood, my lungs, my limbs, my head. Everything was power. Everything was _mine_. Everyone was either _my_ friend or _my_ enemy.

Turning to my friends, I cried, "Whoa! I have my magic back! It's back, you guys!" They heard me with elation, hope, and masked jealousy. Well, that wouldn't do. Noticing my best ally, besides the slayer, stood next to me, I passed the Aegis to her, watching with pride as Bethany breathed the magic back in, understanding the yummy feeling enrapturing her as her eyes went black.

"Can I…" the vampire protested weakly, holding his hand out for the Aegis. "Can I have that back? Please?" Why was he being so half-assed about it? Stupid, indecisive creature. If he was going to be with my best ally, he had to do better than – "I _need_ that back," he demanded, eyes suddenly going hard and unforgiving. That was more like it!

"Yeah, of course," my mouth said while my hand returned the angel's artifact with a careless flick of my wrist. My mouth wanted to be snarky, so it said, "Possessive much?"

The vampire frowned as he spoke, "I'm having a hard time letting go. Literally."

It was obviously a problem for him and even though it bored me, I decided that Angel was, yes, one of _my_ people and my mouth should ask, "What happens when you let go?"

He gave me a long and boring speech about pain and helplessness and I could tell he hated being as helpless as I had been. But the Aegis gave him his power now. The books had said the artifact would change his soul, so I looked at it, burning there in his chest. It _was_ different, superficially. More golden than yellow as it had been, brighter, echoing the pulse of magic surrounding the Aegis, like an ethereal heartbeat. Before I could think over the words, my mouth said, "That's what the book must have meant by soul-changing…"

The vampire cried out at this slip of the tongue, asking me _questions_ I didn't have time for. So I acted. If Angel was going to use this thing my greatest benefit, if he was going to protect me from losing this power that was such a part of me I felt like I could finally _breathe_ now that it was back, I needed that spell Pete had given me. The book flew to my hand when bidden and opened automatically to the page I needed. The spell required that I touch the Aegis and despite the haze of magic and the compelling need to _do_, I brought my fingers to it carefully, somewhat expecting another surge of power that didn't come.

That's okay. I already had more power than I could deal with.

My mouth said the words while my mind wove the magic, calling to the Aegis, letting my energy slip into the gentle pulse of power. The words directed the magic and then, with a final, ear-muffling pulse of energy, the Aegis' pulse filled the room, the castle, the entire compound. I felt the magic breathe back into _my_ people, giving them the teeth to fight, while it flushed through me, reaffirming the potency of my power.

Angel – his soul still pulsing along with the Aegis, which he clutched a little less tightly now that he was completely in tune with his prize – asked something and I let my mouth reply without actually hearing the words. There were bigger worries at hand. Now that the demon's meddling couldn't reach us, now that we had woven a spell with our newly regained abilities, we were power. We were magic. We were Willow.

We gestured to our allies. We told them mind-to-mind what needed to be done, how best to follow, how best to use what had been returned to us. How best to destroy those who had taken our power. How best to protect our people.

We could tell there were demons in _our_ home. Hairy demons, scaly demons, fleshy demons. And vampires. We had to be careful about those. Two of them were ours. Our ally, the slayer, would leave us if we hurt them. We ordered the others to spare the angel and the blond. Oh, and the Tru'nknar healer. We would need him to heal our ally. She looked injured, falling into the blond's arms like that.

We met with the dark ally, who led the others from the forefront of the battle. She was covered in blood, but we could tell it wasn't hers. She, like we, was death. She, like we, could fall into the power, get lost in it as she had before. She, like we, had a claim over this place. And she, like we, would have to leave once the battle was over.

Demons fell around us like toppled dominoes, either by magic or blade. One death led to another, which led to another. The demons fled, but we were quicker, taking their lives in payment for what had been stolen from us. We fumed. We raged. We brought the fury of woman scorned. We brought justice. We were reckless indignation.

We were Willow.

A booming voice broke the night, growling low and mean, "Silly _witch_. You, Willow … Danielle … Rosenberg, will pay for what you've done! I _will_ break through your barrier to my home dimension. I _will_ collect my armies. And then, not even the angel will save you."

"Oh, suck it, big guy," We murmured, pushing the last of our enemies away and snapping up a ward to keep all demons out. And in, I guessed. Wordlessly, I ordered the rest of my sorcerers to reinforce the barrier as best they could. It was over.

And I was still thrumming with power.

I'd lost time during the fight, I was sure of it. What all had I done? Please, God, tell me I didn't hurt anyone. Please tell me I'm still me. I'm still human.

* * *

"What do you mean, Nibblet?" I asked as I followed Dawn away from Angel, sparing a glance back to see him wave me off half-heartedly before pushing his way into the Command Room. At least he wasn't so furious that he was ignoring me completely. As long as Angel wasn't ignoring me, I would be okay. Maybe not _happy_ with the state of things, but okay. Him and his bloody fucking cars…

"I mean," Dawn replied, hurrying forward past the dining room and turning the corner toward the front hall, "some demon put a new hole in Buffy last night and this morning she decides she's good as new and throws herself into the battle." The sounds and smells of battle wafted toward us and a sea of bodies crowded the hallway, some lying still but most up and moving, tending the wounded, running weapons back and forth.

"So she's okay?" I asked, weaving after Dawn through the chaos and picking up an axe someone had abandoned on the floor.

"Okay is a relative term when it comes to Buffy," the girl replied, squeaking a little when a short, pink-skinned demon wearing what looked like a pile of burlap sacks broke through the main line of slayers near the door and jumped on one of the girls in front of us, his sharp teeth poised to strike at her.

I couldn't swing my axe for fear of hitting the girl, so I dropped it and grabbed the fucker by his head, pulling him off the girl and pounding him into the floor until he bled rivers of noxious demon blood. Ugh. At least the smell helped drown out the enticing odor of slayer blood that was everywhere. Slayers were everywhere, injured or fighting, or both in most cases. Bleeding.

Over near the edge of the crowd, Illyria still fought her heart out, blurring through space to deliver staggering blows or to set the muzzle of her gun under a target's chin before pulling the trigger. She was bloody brilliant, better than most of the slayers out there, but I could tell she was getting tired. I hoped she had enough of Fred's good sense to get out of there before she exhausted herself, because once Illyria was unconscious, Fred was just as vulnerable as any other human.

Then I found Buffy across the room, fighting one of those big, hairy ox-demons with everything she had, which didn't seem to be much at the moment. Weaving and leaping my way through the fray, I got to Buffy's side, announcing my presence with a sharp, "Slayer."

Buffy responded in kind, "Took you long enough." When I slammed the blade of my axe into the demon's back, severing his spine and felling him, she sighed. Drawing breath like it was the most difficult thing she'd ever had to do, Buffy gave me a small smile and moved on to the next foe, another one of those quick, pink little demons.

We worked together, but I could see Buffy letting go of the fight more and more as I stepped in for her. Bloody bint should never have been injured. She was better than that. She was better than the half-hearted desperation she fought with, going for the easy injuries rather than the quick kills, leaving me to clean up the mess and finish the wankers off.

When she ran into another of those big ox-demons, I fought most of that fight for her as well. Just as I was about to deal the killing blow, a snap of power rang through the room. It knocked most of us from our feet enough to stumble and I grabbed Buffy's arm so she wouldn't fall. Pulling her against me and trying not to notice how small she felt, I watched as the demons all lost … something. Their confidence, their will to fight, their mojo, something that, now gone, let our side push them back, slaughtering the demons in the pervasive need for the fight to be _over_.

I felt it shiver through the humans in the room, the desperate need to either win or surrender. It reminded me of the expression Angelus' victims wore on their faces just before he decided he was done with them. It reminded me of the taste of a good kill, one where the human fought spiritedly and I strung them along just far enough to reach that breaking point. I hated that feeling now because it meant girls I knew, girls I cared about, were hurting and dying. It meant pain. It meant loss of innocence and a hope that caved into gritting your teeth and digging in until you were the only wanker left alive and you weren't even sure you wanted the bloody privilege.

Before Buffy could do more than twitch in the direction of the battle again, Willow showed up beside us, appearing from out of nowhere. The chit's eyes glowed a scary shade of black and her hair flowed white, floating in a breeze I couldn't feel standing four feet away from her. _Something_ was off, yeah?

"Wills?" Buffy asked, her voice soft and careful, but there was no indication that the witch heard her. Instead, Willow took a step forward and one of the demons off to the left side of the fight just went, 'Pftt' like he'd been a lit match and Willow had pinched him out with spit-moistened fingers. The only bits left were a little pile of ash and then a wide-eyed slayer falling weapon-first into the place where he used to be. On Willow's next step, two or three demons snuffed it and more and more of the blighters in the room noticed what was going on.

Slayers shrieked in surprise, demons fled, and Buffy held my hand. She squeezed my palm once before stumbling against me and losing her knees. Not at all surprised, I caught her under the arms, careful of the side she'd been favoring as I lowered us both to the ground, holding her against me, almost in my lap. "It's alright, kitten," I told her. "Red's finished it."

"I was starting to wonder," she whispered as we watched Willow and some of her people clear up the hall and drive the demons outside, "if you were coming back."

In reply I said, "I was starting to wonder if you'd still be _alive_ when I got back, pet."

Buffy nodded at me sadly, catching my eye in hers and rubbing a hand over the injury on her ribs. "It was scary," she admitted, "not being able to breathe. But hey, I'm Buffy. I'm made of tough stuff."

"Aye," I agreed, pulling her closer and kissing her hair. "Though the bit told me you're supposed to be resting yet."

Scoffing, Buffy said, "She's such a tattletale."

"You know," I replied a little harshly. "Sometimes I really hate that bravado of yours, Slayer. D'you know how difficult it was, seeing you get injured when I was in Cambridge and couldn't do anything to prevent it?"

"You had a vision about me?" she asked, and I could see the last of her attention waver from the battle and settle fully on my shoulders.

"I did," I told her, letting my hand hover over that injury, which felt hotter than the rest of her skin, even through her shirt. That couldn't be good, could it? "Ange and I were supposed to keep it from happening. Only, I didn't get the bloody memo until after the fact." I sighed into Buffy's hair, squeezing her carefully so I wouldn't hurt her.

She hummed contentedly at the gesture before backing up so she could look at me and asking, "Why not?"

"Dunno," I replied, feeling a love-struck smile creep onto my lips as she looked up at me. "But your sis has a theory about someone blocking my visions. And, I reckon I got a few of 'em at once when Angel activated that bloody bowl o' his 'cause whoever it was couldn't block my brain anymore."

"The artifact?" Buffy asked, considering my face for a moment. "Why do you sound so put out about it? It must've worked to give you your visions back. Isn't it better to have them as they're supposed to come? Isn't it better to know ahead of time?"

"'S not that, pet," I told her, ignoring the deeper meanings in her questions. "It's the fact that the great forehead can't put the fucking thing down without gettin' all sore and pissy."

"So he's ... stuck to it?" Buffy asked, an amused expression clouding the exhaustion there when I nodded. "This I gotta see."

I chuckled and held her close again, wondering if she was always this warm, if I'd forgotten in the two days since I'd last held her. Then, I whispered, "Can't ever take a holiday from being you, eh, kitten? Not even for our peace of mind?"

"You're mad I was fighting," she sighed, shaking her head against my shoulder. "I couldn't just sit there and do nothing. We were losing! I stayed alive as best I could," Buffy insisted.

"Did you, now?" I asked, smirking when she gave me a wide-eyed, earnest look and nodded. Sometimes I forget just how young she is.

"Yes. I knew you'd be pissed if I died on you again." She snuggled into my arms and took a few sharp breaths like she was trying not to cry.

"Not pissed," I whispered gently in her ear. "Bloody devastated."

"It's going to happen," Buffy whispered back, tightening her grip on my arm. "I can feel it."

"What, now?" I asked, suddenly very concerned. I inhaled deeply, trying to get a sense of just what was wrong. "You're not even bleeding!"

"I'm not dying right _now_, you mook!" she laughed, her tears disappearing in to humor. "I'm just exhausted."

Chuckling in relief, I scolded Buffy, "Why would you fucking scare a bloke like that?"

The girl sighed, searching my eyes for a few moments before she said, "I just want you to be prepared."

"Buff," I pointed out, letting my fingers brush over her ponytail. "I've been prepared every second of every day since you came back."

"Really?" she asked. "Isn't that kind of morbid?"

"Uh, creature of the night here, luv. Morbid's what we do." I sighed and pushed her hair away from her face. "Thanks, though. For still being here."

"Gotta see this thing through," she nodded, her cheek rubbing against my hand as she did so. Her eyes drooped and as silence settled over the hall, Buffy relaxed in my arms. Because I couldn't help myself, I pressed a delicate kiss to her lips, which were rough but warm. As we parted, I licked my lips, finding the taste of her there.

* * *

_A/N: Title and beta-reading courtesy of Hortense (Thanks again!)_

_Also, don't forget to review! Especially if you want to see the thrilling conclusion of this episode sometime later this week... (hint, hint)  
_


	10. Aground

**Consequence**

Chapter 10 - Aground

Sword in hand and Aegis pocketed, I made my way down to the kitchen as fast as possible, two of the least-injured slayers limping along after me. A woman's scream urged me faster, leading me toward the staircase down to the cellar. A tall, blonde slayer named Diane held the door, bracing her back against it and digging her heels into the flagstone floor. In the far corner of the room two very young girls huddled together against one wall, eyes fixed on the dying demon at their feet.

It was one of those scaly demons that Spike ran over with my car and it laid on the kitchen floor, breathing quickly and heavily around the vegetable knife sticking out of its chest. Without thinking, I drove the point of my blade through its throat and spine, killing it and, I'm afraid, scaring the shit out of the two girls.

"Sorry," I apologized before joining the three slayers – Diane and the two who had followed me – at the door to the cellar. To the most injured-looking slayer, I said, "Get them out of here," pointing to the girls in the corner. Even if they were slayers, they were just too young to deal with what was coming.

"Got it," she said, powering through the pain as she limped away to follow my orders.

"Can't hold this much longer," Diane grunted and, sparing half a second to fortify myself by brushing the Aegis with my fingertips, I pressed my weight against the door over her head.

"Just a few more seconds," I insisted, grunting when a particularly jarring crash against the door snapped my teeth together.

Diane looked up at me with a smirk and said, "If you could help me keep them away from the dishes, I'd be grateful."

"So would my wallet," I replied with a nod, following the slayer's gaze to a stack of plastic crates holding what looked like hundreds of white plates and bowls.

"It's almost over, right?" the other slayer asked, drawing my attention. "Things'll go back to normal after this?"

Diane and I shared a knowing look, but neither of us wanted to dispel the girl's fantasy. Instead, I said, "Let go on three," and hefted my sword, getting ready to jump ahead of either slayer. "One…" Less mortal and less exhausted than either slayer, it was only right that I take the brunt of the damage. "Two…" Besides, it had been too long since I'd had a good fight.

"Three!"

The slayers let the door go and I met the first demon, a green, scaly creature with weird tentacles on his head, by thrusting my sword through his chest. It was too difficult to retrieve the weapon, so I let it fall, meeting the next demon with my fists. God, it felt good smashing my fist into its skull, the skin on my knuckles splitting a little with the force, the shock of the contact vibrating through my arm as I followed through. A third demon came through the door and tried to grab my arm, so I spun and kicked him in the ribs, focusing on the second demon again.

Recovering from the blow, he bared his teeth at me, hissing and dodging the next few blows I sent his way. Unthinking, and probably recklessly because of the two slayers in the room, I showed him my fangs with a growl. "Sorry. I'm not impressed."

The demon gurgled what was probably an insult in his language, but I didn't understand him. I didn't need to. All I needed to do was kill him before too many of his brothers got through the door behind him. Diane yelled a lot as she fought the demon who'd grabbed me, mostly wordlessly, but sometimes letting loose a harrowed, "Bastard!" in Norwegian.

The other slayer, who was smaller than Buffy and not quite as quick, soon resorted to grappling with the next demon that came through the door, never quite gaining an edge over him until I clocked the demon in his kidney, more of that gurgling language burbling from his mouth in pain.

Soon I'd broken the neck of the second demon, Diane had beaten the third into submission, the first was truly dead now, and the fourth pushed the young slayer away from him harshly, sending her flying into … the stack of dishes. Fuck.

After a quick glance to make sure she was okay and getting up, I pushed back at the demons still trying to get up the stairs and into the kitchen. There must have been at least five more of them, so after a particularly hard shove that sent a few of them tumbling down the stairs, I set my foot on the first demon's chest and pulled out the sword, grimacing at the wet, sucking sound of metal sliding across gore. Angelus had always been particularly fond of that sound.

A few minutes later, all of the demons were dead, the young slayer was cradling her left wrist like it was sprained or broken, and Diane was fuming at her over the broken dishes. "Hey!" I cried out, making sure my fangs were away before I got too close to the blonde slayer. "It wasn't her fault, Diane. I'll order you new ones in the morning, okay?"

"Alright, Mr. Angel," she pouted, standing tall despite her anger. "We do have more important things to worry about, I agree."

"Yeah," the little slayer chimed in. "We need to seal off that secret door before more demons find their way in."

"Can you two take care of it?" I asked, expecting that the fight was still going on elsewhere in the castle, even if the kitchen was now calm. Diane nodded and I took off, sprinting to the main hall as quickly as I could – sometimes it's really nice, not having to breathe – but everything there was silent. There were the remnants of war. Dead demons were everywhere, a few injured slayers sitting up among the debris. Singe marks decorated one wall, and there were quite a few piles of ex-vampire dust. Hmm, they must have gotten into the castle before sunrise. Hopefully none of those piles of ash contained long, leather jacket dust as well.

I'd known Willow went to drive the enemy from the castle, but somehow I didn't think it would be over this quickly. And I hadn't expected the utter _lack_ of noise. No crying, no shouting, no praying. Only a few whispers here and there as slayers helped each other up and attended to those who couldn't stand. For injured humans, they moved remarkably quietly.

I found it eerie. Maybe I should, being one of two vampires in a sea of vampire slayers. The natural order of things put the ratio the other way. But then again, I'd never been too concerned with the natural order.

Scanning the room, I noticed two blonde heads very near to one another. Spike was sitting there, with Buffy in his arms. Oh, god! Was she dead? How could none of it have helped? How could we have gone to so much trouble, how could I have chained myself to this fucking _thing_, if it didn't make any difference? If she died anyway? Damn it! Willow told me she was going to be fine! What had happened?

No, there! Buffy moved her head. She was alive, resting in Spike's arms but alive and conscious. Even better.

I watched as my boyfriend bent down and kissed Buffy gently, licking his lips as soon as she snuggled into him and closed her eyes. I should have felt … something, right? I should have felt even just a little stab of jealousy seeing them together that emotionally intimate. It should have stung, so why didn't it? Why was all I could feel an echo of Spike's slightly worried contentment and something like warmth in my chest?

Since the battle had been fought and won, I set my sword down and approached them quietly, not wanting to disturb Buffy if she needed to rest. I could tell already, from fifteen feet away, that her heartbeat was strong, if a little fast for being half asleep in Spike's arms.

Then Spike's head tilted so he could see me and his dark brows furrowed up together in slew of silent questions. What was the state of things? What emotion would I show him first? Was it okay that he be holding Buffy like I could tell he really wanted to? Where had I gone? Was I still mad at him?

Just that damn complex expression was enough to make me forgive Spike for what he'd done. Of course, it's not like I would forget about it and it's not like I wouldn't hold it over his head from time to time. But everything was forgiven.

I knelt down beside them, smiled softly, and brushed my hand over Spike's hair, letting him know he could trust me. I followed that brush with a kiss to his temple, to reassure him, before sitting on my heels and wrapping my arms around my boyfriend and Buffy.

Breathing in as though I'd awakened her, Buffy smiled at me over Spike's shoulder and mumbled, "Angel! You're here."

I nodded and squeezed both of them tighter, relieved that for just a moment at least, I could be here, in the moment with them. Softly, Spike asked me, "Where's the Aegis, luv?"

"Pocket," I replied. "Apparently that's good enough."

"And here I thought you were happy to see me," he smirked.

"I am," I told him, burying my nose in the crook of Spike's neck and squeezing Buffy's hand when hers found mine. Wait. She was too warm, even by slayer standards. Feverish. "Where are you hurt?" I asked her, scooting around Spike to face her, needing to see the damage for myself. Needing to protect her, even if Buffy was the one girl who needed very little protecting.

"Just-" she sighed, pulling up the front of her shirt to reveal a very ugly looking puncture wound, oozing pus around the stitches. "Oh, that doesn't look good."

"So Dawn was right," Spike murmured, shaking Buffy a little in our arms. "You _were_ supposed to be recuperating, Slayer. This doesn't look like you were trying very hard to stay alive, pet. Jumping into battle like this?"

"Some battles just have to be fought," she shot back, struggling to stand up.

"Where are you going?" I asked, standing up to follow her and sharing another worried glance with Spike.

"Have to find out who we lost," Buffy replied, pressing one hand to her side and breathing out sharply. "Oh, and then maybe a trip to the infirmary," she grimaced.

"How 'bout we take those in the other order, luv?" Spike insisted, jumping to catch up with her and block her way. "Ange and I'll make sure you know what's going on first thing."

Looking up at me as I slid my arm around Buffy's shoulders, she took a moment to search my expression and then Spike's before nodding silently. As we walked, Buffy stumbled more than once and I wanted to pick her up and carry her, but I knew she'd resent it. That self-reliance was one of the things I really loved about her, even if she took it to ill-advised lengths. Like when she breathed, "Uh-oh," before her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted.

My arm still around her shoulders, I felt it as she began to fall and caught her, swinging her up into my arms. Well, there was one wish granted.

Before I could make the next one, that same deep, loud voice from the museum echoed through the castle halls, startling most of the slayers around us. "Silly _witch_. You, Willow … Danielle … Rosenberg, will pay for what you've done! I _will_ break through your barrier to my home dimension. I _will_ collect my armies. And then, not even the angel will save you."

Beside me, Spike clucked his tongue and muttered, "Sounds like papa's brassed off, Ange. How's your _Aegis_ holdin' up?"

"Fine," I answered, leading the way to the infirmary and making my second wish – that we could figure out a way to separate me from this fucking artifact.

I knew it was the only thing keeping us safe from this archdemon and whatever the hell he wanted to do to us, but it felt more like a curse than a blessing. And believe me, I'm well acquainted with curses. To protect everyone, Buffy and all her people, Spike, Fred, I couldn't leave the castle. If this thing with Buffy went south, I wouldn't be able to leave. Not without being a selfish asshole. Not without dooming all of those people to death at the hands of a vengeful archdemon.

* * *

"Ow!" a voice pulled me out of sleep. "That hurt, doc!" I recognized Faith's voice and as much as a little part of me wanted to see her in pain, the bigger part of me wanted to snuggle back into the pillows under me and forget about the world for awhile.

"Sorry, Miss Lehane! Sorry!" Dr. Jerry muttered. "I'm not running at full capacity anymore."

"I don't blame ya!" Faith replied with a chuckle. "And thanks, doc. Without you, we would have lost a few of them."

"Ah, it was my pleasure," Jerry insisted. "Even if I do need to sleep for a week."

"Go! Go!" she encouraged him. "Now that I'm bandaged up, I'll keep an eye on our favorite dame here. Get some rest." I felt someone pat the foot of the mattress and wondered whether anyone could tell how conscious I was. My side still hurt a little, but everything else was pleasantly tingly. And man, my eyes didn't want to open! But my ears wanted to know what was going on, especially when new footsteps approached and Faith asked, "What's the final count, boys?"

"Fourteen missing," Xander replied wearily, his voice weak and scratchy. He'd probably been yelling for the past three days straight. "Eleven gravely injured, but alive. Four hundred sixty-three with various minor injuries. One laid up Buffy. And none dead."

"None?" Faith asked, her voice rich with incredulousness. Incredulity? She didn't believe him, anyways. "How did we manage that?"

"Maybe they took the dead? I don't know, Faith," Xander sighed. "How's she doing?"

"Better, Jerry says," Faith told him. "Don't worry, Harris. Spike and me have got this. You go take a break for a few hours."

"Yeah, alright. Let me know when she wakes up?" I almost yawned and stretched out right there, to put Xander's mind at ease, but something held me back. Maybe it was the thought that if I did, it would just be that much longer before Xander got any rest. Maybe it was the fact that upon testing it, I still couldn't open my eyes. The doctor must have given me something to keep me resting. That's okay. It made me feel kinda nice. Loopy, but nice.

A body sat down on the foot of my bed and Faith's voice came from farther away, flopping down into a chair or another bed bedside mine as she asked, "Where's the big man, Blondie?"

"Talking things over with the witch," Spike's voice replied, his hand rubbing my lower leg through the covers with a familiarity that made me want to smile, except that I was supposed to be asleep. "Somewhat about his shield-thing and her shield-thing meshing together right."

Faith laughed a dirty chuckle and said, "Talking. Uh-huh."

Spike cackled a little and said, "Of all the bints in this place, I'm sure Red is the one least likely to steal Angel's affections."

"And Queen B's the most likely," Faith pointed out.

"Aye," Spike sighed, "I know." I wanted to argue, to tell him I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't steal Angel away, but I really couldn't move. It seemed like the kind of situation that could really freak a person out – being awake and unable to move – but something about what the doctor had given me made it feel … safe. Like I could give up this little thing and sink into the mattress, content.

Then, they grew silent, Spike moving from the bed to another chair on the far side of my bed from Faith. He scooted closer and leaned on my bed near my face, his cool fingers brushing through my hair. Oh, god, my hair! It was probably a wreck! Oh, but the vampire's fingers felt so nice…

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I heard was Angel's voice convincing Faith to go sleep somewhere more comfortable, like her room. "…it from here, Faith," he said.

"Okay, big guy," she whispered back sleepily. "But Xand made me promise to let him know when she woke up."

I could almost hear Angel roll his eyes, but he agreed and Faith left. There were some furniture moving sounds and then Angel's voice came from next to Spike, "Okay, Will?"

"Yeah, pet," Spike murmured back, the mattress shifting as he leaned away from me. "You?"

"Down one really sweet car," Angel insisted, chuckling a little at a face Spike must have pulled, "but otherwise alright." What happened to Angel's car? Had he crashed it or something? Had the demons destroyed it during the battle?

"How long am I gonna be paying for that one?" Spike asked, the leather of his coat squeaking against the upholstery of his chair as he shifted in it. Hmm, that seemed to mean that Spike was responsible for what had happened to the sports car. Oh, that was not good.

Angel replied, "A long, long time, hon," his tone held a little bit of an edge, but I heard the lilt of humor in there. Good. There was no way I could be with them unless they were solid together. The idea was to make things better between them, not worse. Never worse.

"Bugger," Spike breathed, his voice resigned to the consequences, like he didn't notice Angel was joking.

Laughing softly, Angel murmured, "We can start there."

Wait, that meant sex, right? That's how Angel was going to get Spike to make it up to him? I tried to hide it, but I think I shivered a little at the thought, breaking whatever hold the drugs had on me, because besides shifting in their chairs again, both vampires were silent for a long, tense minute or two. I'd just decided that they hadn't noticed anything and maybe I should get some more sleep, when Spike spoke again.

"Fred alright, then? Looked a little peaky."

Angel sighed, "She says she and Illyria are fine. I told her not even God-Kings can fight for three days straight without getting some rest. She called me young and naïve."

"Shoulda had Harris talk her into resting," Spike replied, his jacket squeaking again as he shifted.

"How would he have done any better?" Angel asked with an annoyed huff.

"Of course you haven't noticed how those two are circling each other," Spike scoffed. "Bloody clueless you are, Peaches."

"Oh." Wait, what? Was I just as clueless as Angel? Fred and Xander liked each other? You know what, I could definitely see it. I didn't know Fred very well yet, but she seemed just weird enough for Xander to be attracted to her. That, and she did have an ex-demon in her head, which was big money when it came to landing him! I hoped he was over Renee leaving. It had taken long enough for him to get over Anya's death. Maybe Fred would be good for him in a way that Renee wasn't. A girl could dream, couldn't she?

Spike laughed at Angel's simple word of realization and then in a low voice, asked, "Would you have even seen how much I wanted you if I hadn't guilted you into fucking me?"

"I was trying to ignore it," Angel murmured back and I suppressed another shiver. Just the way Spike swore like that reminded me of the things he used to whisper to me when we were together. And his voice had always made my blood boil. Angel continued, "But I did notice."

"Did ya notice the number you've been doin' on the slayer?" Spike asked him, and I knew he was referring to me. "Bouncin' her around like a soddin' yo-yo, Ange." That's right, he was! Thank god Spike had the stones to call him on it, because I didn't. Not yet, anyway. I didn't want to scare him off again.

"Shit, I know, Will," Angel sighed again. "It's stupid…"

"What are you afraid of?" Spike coaxed and I held my breath. This was more than I should be hearing, wasn't it? But I _needed_ to know where Angel was. How much longer I had to stay alive before he let himself have what I was sure he wanted. So, I kept listening.

"Losing my soul," he confessed. "Losing you. Not being able to leave if things go badly," it sounded like he shifted around in his seat again before saying, "because of this."

"So this thing is a setback in more ways than one?"

"No," Angel insisted. "It's just something to consider. I'm close, precious. I promise."

"Close as in another three months, or close as in three days?" Spike asked him, his voice low and suggestive. Man, I wanted to open my eyes.

Angel chuckled and whispered, "There is still the matter of payback, _cor_."

I held my breath again so I couldn't gasp at the sex in Angel's laugh. During a long, silent moment, I imagined what might be going on between the two vampires next to my bed. So not fair!

Spike broke the silence again, asking, "You really wanna start with a shag, luv?" He paused for just a breath before continuing, "There's so many other things I could do for you, so many other places I could put my hands. My mouth. _And_, thought maybe a kiss would be a better place to begin."

"Haven't kissed you since Cambridge, have I?" Angel asked in a low murmur, almost groaning.

"Not properly," Spike agreed, sounding breathless. "'s not too much to hope for this soon?"

"No," Angel replied, and I couldn't help it. I let one eye crack open, wanting to see the palpable chemistry that happened whenever they kissed. But, instead of seeing a kiss, I saw two vampires smirking at me.

"Busted," I croaked with a smile before clearing the sleep from my throat. The drugs had mostly worn off, probably due to my slayer metabolism, and I sat up, opening my other eye.

"How long have you been awake, luv?" Spike asked me with a knowing smile. Angel's expression was not so knowing, but he seemed content and not angry or anything.

"Just a minute," I lied. "What's going on?"

"Don't worry about that now," Angel insisted, standing up and sitting next to me on the bed. "Everything's fine."

"Everyone's alive?" I asked, even though I knew the answer.

Spike nodded. "Helped with the tally meself. Some're missing, but no confirmed deaths."

"Shit," I breathed. "We have to find them."

Angel set a heavy hand on my shoulder and said, "We'll find them, Buffy. But not yet. We all need to rest. You're no good to anyone if you faint again."

"Oh, yeah," I grimaced. "I did that, didn't I?"

"You did," Angel replied with a smile.

Spike stood up beside us, raising one eyebrow at me until I lay back down. "You gonna be a good girl and rest until you're completely healed?" Spike asked, his hand finding Angel's back as they both looked down at me. "Or are we gonna have to tie you down, luv?"

"No," I smiled, "you're right." I thought about all the reasons I had to stay in bed, and then all the reasons I had to be up and about and only one really weighed on me. "Would someone check on Willow for me? Last I remember, she was off the deep end…"

"Sure," Angel said, starting to get up before Spike stopped him.

"No, I'll go, luv," he smiled. "You stay here and think about how good you are at forgiveness."

Angel laughed and nodded.

"Be back soon, pets," Spike smirked with a salute, leaving and closing the curtain behind him. Looking around, I realized that most of the lights were off, just a few left on to read the instruments by, and my bed was hidden from all the others by that privacy curtain. There were two uncomfortable looking chairs on one side of my bed, so close they were touching and I smiled.

Turning the smile up at Angel, I said, "It looks like you could use some sleep, too."

"I'm staying," he insisted, mistaking my observation for a ploy to get rid of him.

Shifting over on the bed, I made room for Angel, patting the mattress in invitation. "You can stay and get some sleep, at the same time."

Angel watched my face for a long moment before pinching the bridge of his nose and nodding. Kicking off his shoes, he settled himself next to me, whispering, "Thanks."

"Anytime," I insisted, turning over to face away from him and pulling his hand around me, careful not to let his arm brush the wound on my ribs. I pulled him against my back, getting comfy with his cool weight there, trying to believe that it had always been this way. When Angel started breathing, and then snoring, I smiled. He said he would be ready soon. Soon.

* * *

Hours and hours after the battle was over, after the sun had gone down, I sat outside the door to the infirmary, trying to summon up the courage to go see Buffy. I had only seen her in passing since she'd been stabbed and I couldn't find the words I wanted to say how sorry I was. She'd gotten injured because of me. She'd collapsed after the battle and was fighting a serious infection because I had been too busy researching to sit by her bedside and make sure she didn't go anywhere. I'd failed her.

Man, helpless Willow was kind of a baby, but powerful Willow was even worse – a coward. Why? I could wipe out dozens of demons with barely a few thoughts, but I couldn't face my best friend in the hospital? Damn it!

"Red?" Someone broke into my thoughts and I wiped my tears away to look up at Spike. "What's amatter?" Grunting, he crouched down next to me, brows furrowed together in concern.

What could I say? "Oh, you know…" I tried, "scary uber-demon is after me in particular."

Tilting his head as he looked at me, Spike drawled, "No. No, I don't think that's it."

I scoffed, but I didn't contradict him. Spike was right. I didn't care so much about a demon as I did about losing control of my powers. To distract him, I asked, "How's Buffy?"

Spike shrugged but said, "Better. She was just awake, but she's resting now. You can talk to her in the morning. Okay, pet?"

I watched his face for a moment. Had Spike guessed why I'd been out here, why I had yet to make my way to Buffy's bedside? I drew a shuddering sigh and nodded, grateful for a few hours more reprieve. That was a few more hours I had to come up with the words I needed.

"Funny thing, that," he said, sitting down beside me with his back to the wall.

"What?" I asked, catching a few more tears with my fingers.

Resting his arms on his knees and tilting his head to meet my eyes, Spike replied, "Wouldn't think lookin' at ya now that you're the same bint that went on a demon-extermination spree this mornin'."

I chuckled sort of humorlessly, admitting, "I don't feel like her. I went a little crazy, getting my power back all at once like that."

"Mmm," he hummed and nodded. "I got my visions back all at once. Hurt like a bitch."

"Mine was the opposite," I told Spike. "It felt _too good_. Getting all my power back."

"Made you go balls-out crazy?"

"What?" I laughed, sniffing once because of my runny nose.

Spike smiled and scratched his eyebrow. "Used to dream of it, when I still had the chip. I would get it out, have my fangs back, and just go fucking _insane_ on you people. 'Course by the time I did get it out, I had the soul…"

"Yeah," I nodded. "That must have been it."

"Thought so," he nodded, sitting with me in silence for a few moments.

Eventually, I asked, "Was it difficult, being without your visions? Did it feel like you were missing something? I couldn't _breathe_ without my magic."

"Nah," he let his head fall back against the wall and shook it. "I didn't even notice they were gone until they came back."

"I wish there wasn't such a big difference between me with magic and me without it," I told him, envious. "I wouldn't be so scared of having it, then."

"Would you give it up, Red?" Spike asked, picking at his nails out in front of him. "If you could be rid of it forever, would you do it?"

I gasped at the suggestion. Would it be better? Being helpless Willow again? Would it be easier letting it go? Would everyone else be safer, or in more danger? "I don't think I could," I told Spike. "Would you give up your visions?"

Shaking his head, he said, "No. They might be painful, but it's nice knowin' I have 'em back. Knowin' I'm still important to Angel's mission. To him."

Taken aback, I said, "Anyone can see you're important to him, Spike. For much more than just the mission."

"Thanks," he nodded. "You're a sweet one, pet." We sat together for another few moments, before Spike looked at me again. "I figure we've got to find you somethin' like my soul, yeah? Keep you in check without takin' your power all the way away."

Sighing, I told him, "I know. And I know there are people … well, _beings_ … that can help me. I just have to ask."

"And there's the rub, eh?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "I have to admit I can't handle it anymore. Not after LA, and now this. But that means stupid disappointy looks and sympathetic words and people feeling _sorry_ for me. Or thinking I should have known better…"

"There's always that, Willow," Spike said, standing up and holding his hand out for me. "No matter what you do, people will talk. Do what you need to do, and just tell everyone else to bugger off."

Sighing, I realized that Spike was right. I couldn't go on with this, disappointing the people I cared about and getting closer and closer to the edge where I would end up doing something I really regretted. So, I reached up and took his cool, dry hand, letting him pull me until I was standing. Taking a deep breath and then letting it out, I asked Spike, "Will you come with me?"

His eyes darting from the door to the infirmary and then back to me, the blond nodded. "Yeah, luv. I can do that for ya."

"Thanks," I said, leading the way to upstairs rooms. We walked together in silence until we came to one particular door. I must have stood outside it for close to a minute, had raised but not knocking, before Spike gave me a gentle shove.

"Go on, then, Red," he whispered in my ear. "Show 'em all what good stuff you're made of."

Smiling uncontrollably, I knocked on the door and held my breath until it opened. Without even meeting his eyes, I blurted out, "Giles? We have to talk."

* * *

_And there's the promised ending!_

_The gang's adventures are continued in the already-up first chapter of Episode 4 - **Carnivore**: After Spike has a vision of his favorite slayer in mortal trouble, can he get to her in time? How will Angel feel about being left behind? Will Buffy take to being the damsel in distress? Angel/Spike/Buffy. Also, some Xander POV in there for you guys. _

_I hope you go check it out, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!  
_


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